


Tree Without Blossoms

by SunMonTue



Series: Tree Without Blossoms [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 07:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 124,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunMonTue/pseuds/SunMonTue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A future!fic set in 2025 where Kurt and Dave's lives intertwine again, proving just how small the world really is, and how Fate has a twisted sense of humour. AU from end of Season 2. There are a few OCs because being 13 years on they've actually both made other friends and had other relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Italiano available: [Tree Without Blossoms](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004501) by [ShallICompareThee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShallICompareThee/pseuds/ShallICompareThee)



> This is AU from the end of Season 2. It will be a romantic pairing between Dave Karofsky and Kurt Hummel if this isn't your cup of tea then stop here. If it is, then I hope you like it. It is a future!fic, so characters have matured/changed a bit. This is the first fic I have posted not the first I've written, just the first I've had the balls to post. I have most of the second chapter written, but it mentions colleges and US geography, so I'm going to have to do some serious fact checking prior to posting. There are around 10 chapters planned out.
> 
> I am looking for a beta to catch and correct my non-American spelling (I've posted this with British spelling because that's what I've been doing for over 30 years and it's a hard habit to break, also one I can't really break because I need to maintain it for work purposes). I'm fairly confident with my spelling and grammar, but would like a beta to make this USA compatible, as there are plenty of terms which simply do not cross the cultural barriers, and they can be hard to find when you're ignorant of them like I am.
> 
> SPOILERS: I live in New Zealand, so I won't be seeing the third season of Glee until November at the earliest*sobs*), so spoilers for season 3 will be purely circumstantial. I will be mentioning things from seasons 1 and 2.
> 
> ETA: So, this formatting on ffn is impossible to deal with. All the tabs and breaks have disappeared. I have tidied it as best I can. I will post a tidy version to my LJ. *gulp*
> 
> I don't own Glee.

 

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE AUGUST 2025 (Part 1)**

Kurt rubbed his face, tired. No matter how many flights he'd been on, and no matter the actual journey time, they always exhausted him and made him feel like he'd been stuck in an airtight room with a dehumidifier for 24 hours. He looked out the cab window at the city outside, only half noting when the cityscape faded into a more suburbian landscape. He could have phoned earlier, Mercedes would have happily picked him up from the airport, but he'd just been focused on getting out. Away. Anywhere but his apartment in LA. She knew he was coming now. Would be waiting. Worried.

The cab pulled to a stop outside the house, the lights on in almost every window as well as outside, a bright beacon and Kurt smiled at the imagery. He paid the cab driver and pulled his suitcase, garment bag and carryon up the front path. He didn't need to knock, Mercedes had the door open, obviously she had been listening out for a cab. Kurt took in the worried expression on her face and felt himself warm inside slightly. He  _was_  loved. He might need to repeat that as a mantra for the next few days, but he knew then that he'd come to the right place.

"Theo! Down!" Mercedes ordered, grimacing, knowing how Kurt was about animal fur getting on his clothes, however she was a little taken aback, when instead of using his suitcase as a barrier he knelt and enthusiastically patted the animal.

"Must be nice to have someone be happy to see you all the time…" Kurt mused, looking up at her. Mercedes bit her lip, eyes sad. She didn't know why he was suddenly here, out-of-the-blue, but knew he'd tell her eventually.

"Yeah, it is. He's pretty fantastic, even if he's a complete whore for attention," Mercedes stated, closing the door. She took in Kurt's rumpled clothes, tired eyes and the waves of sheer exhaustion that seemed to be rolling off her best friend.

"How about you go and have a shower and I'll prepare something light for you to eat. I don't care that it's past ten, you need to eat something and"

"Yes. To everything. A shower sounds great. So does food. Do you have any wine? I think I might need a glass. Or two," Kurt interrupted.  _Or a whole bottle_  he thought.

"Not a problem. Red okay?"

"Perfect. Can I do some washing later? I've… I need to wash some clothes."

"Of course," Mercedes whispered, "go, you know where everything is." It was worse than she thought if Kurt was travelling with dirty clothes. He'd toned down since high school, his creativity now firmly channelled into his job, but he still took an inordinate amount of pride in his appearance. She watched as he headed through the lounge to the stairs, Theo following with a wagging tail and lolling tongue.

Kurt dumped his bags in the guest room, hung the garment bag in the wardrobe and quickly took out his toiletry bag, headed for the bathroom. He could feel his throat tightening, the tears welling up now that… now that he was away. He shut the door and flicked on the shower, quickly steaming up the room. He wanted it as hot as he could possibly handle. He scrubbed and shampooed, taking none of his usual joy in his practised washing routine, letting the tears falling down his face be rinsed away by the hot water. He stood for a short while after he was finished, taking in deep shuddering breaths. He knew that he'd talk about it with Mercedes, knew he'd be able to now. Now that he'd cried the worst of the shock out of his system. Not that he hadn't cried before now, and he knew he'd cry again and again before he was over this.

He shut off the shower and stepped out, folding himself in one of the large microfiber towels. He quickly patted himself dry, borrowed Mercedes' bathrobe for the short walk back to the guest bedroom and then opened his suitcase. The one he'd been living out of for the last three weeks while he'd been in London. He pulled on the one pair of clean jeans he had, the only truly clean item of clothing he had with him due to the fact he hadn't had time to wear them while he'd been away. He tugged on a singlet, not caring, it was only Mercedes anyway, and she was in her pyjamas.

Quickly he split the clothes into piles those he'd need to get dry-cleaned, those he'd have to hand-wash and those he could chuck in Mercedes' washing machine, lights and darks separate. He was past caring about fabric types right now. Bundling the clothes into a manageable pile he headed downstairs, putting on a load of washing before heading to the lounge where he found Mercedes curled comfortably at one end of the couch, wine glass in hand. He sat at the opposite end, reaching for the other glass and taking a small taste.

"This is nice…" Kurt murmured, taking another appreciative sip.

"It should be, you bought it," Mercedes replied with a grin, passing him a bowl filled with a chicken salad she'd made. "Please eat," she said when Kurt pulled a slight face. He let out a sigh but nodded, forcing himself to fork the food into his mouth. His stomach let out an appreciate grumble and he shot Mercedes an embarrassed grin. He hadn't eaten since the plane ride from New York to LA, which had been early this morning.

Kurt ate in silence. It was comfortable being here, knowing someone so well that every minute didn't need to be filled with chatter. He smiled softly though, knowing that it was rare that there was silence between them. Normally one of them was always talking. He put the empty bowl on the table and took up his wine glass again, staring unseeingly at the bookcase at the side of the room, mind jumbled and wondering where to start. He knew he'd be unable to sleep until he'd talked it out.

"I got home early…you remember me telling you about Alex's ex, the one who got married?" Kurt started after several more moments of silence.

"Um," Mercedes paused, "the ex that married a woman?"

"Yeah. Him. Marcus. They have a baby now, he's cute."

"The baby right?" Mercedes asked, knowing he meant the baby, but prompting anyway. Kurt was disjointed, obviously hurting, mind scattered. She knew from past experience that things would start making sense once he got started.

"Yeah, the baby," Kurt said, swirling the wine around and watching the oil-like residue cling to the side of his glass. "So I got home early, and Marcus and Alex are asleep in our bed. My bed. The kid's name is James. Jamie. His mom is lovely. Cassie." Kurt went quiet, a single tear trickling down a cheek. Mercedes placed her wine glass on the coffee table, did the same with Kurt's, and then opened her arms and drew Kurt into a gentle hug.

"It's not just me they're fucking over, but Cassie, and Jamie and I just… It reeked of sex. Condoms fucking everywhere. I just…" Tears were flowing freely now, and Mercedes reached for the box she kept beside the couch, pulling some out and passing them to Kurt.

"I feel like an idiot. Alex told me Marcus cheated on him throughout their relationship. Why wouldn't he cheat on his wife with Alex? And you know what Alex told me at their wedding? That he viewed Marcus as  _the one that got away_. Fuck. I really should have seen this coming."

"Sweetie, you love him. Loved him. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty you know," Mercedes stated gently, rocking Kurt in her arms. "Uh… what did you do when you found them?"

Kurt let out a huff of laughter, but in the runny nosed tear streaked state he was in sounded like an undignified snort. He dabbed at his eyes and tried to blow his nose as delicately as possible, sitting up and away from Mercedes slightly.

"Just what you'd expect. Bitch fit of epic proportions. I screamed and yelled and threw things. Alex didn't even apologise, or try to explain. Marcus was begging me to not tell Cassie. Bastards."

Kurt reached for his wine glass and took a large gulp, eyes distant, mind in LA and on several hours earlier.

"You know, it wasn't just that they're fucking each other, but the way I found them, curled around each other like fitted puzzle pieces. It makes me feel like I never had Alex at all… Four years down the drain. I really thought he was the one for me you know?" Tears started afresh, and Mercedes swallowed convulsively to ease the tightness in her own throat. She  _hated_  to see Kurt like this.

"Oh baby, I know. I'm so sorry." Mercedes reached out again and wrapped her arms around Kurt. He let the tears flow then, soaking his friend's pyjama top. Mercedes rocked him.

Kurt could feel the anger whirling with the hurt inside. He'd never been big on denial, but he'd wondered on the plane, and in the cab, whether he'd been missing something. How long it'd been going on. Had there been clues he'd denied seeing? Another question to add to the list.

He'd have to talk to Alex. They had an apartment together. Joint possessions. Mainly, he was disappointed. Disappointed in Alex, and himself. Himself for choosing yet another asshole to open his heart and life to. But right now he was safe. Warmed by the embrace of his best friend who loved him unconditionally for over half his lifetime now. He'd deal with everything. Just not right now.

* * *

Kurt stumbled into the kitchen, drawn out of bed by the smell of coffee. He'd slept, emotional and physically drained from the previous day. He thought it was Thursday now. Maybe. He wasn't entirely sure. It had been Tuesday night when he'd left London and right now he was too tired to figure it all out. Not that it mattered too much anyway, there were other more pressing matters to think about.

"Here, coffee. Your washing is all done the stuff that could go in the drier is folded and on top of the washing machine, the other stuff that needs to line dry is hanging in the airing cupboard."

"Thanks," Kurt replied, his voice hoarse. "Don't you have work to go to?"

"Nope, no work today for me. I've called in with a family emergency to the clinic and cancelled my classes for this afternoon. Tomorrow as well."

"You didn't need to do that, I can take care"

"Yes, you can take care of yourself. But I want to take care of you today. It's nice to be able to look after you for a change, you know?"

Kurt gave her a watery small and small nod, gently acknowledging the number of times he had flown to Mercedes' side for a multitude of reasons.

"So, I'm going to take your clothes to the dry cleaners. I'll then stop by the grocery store and pick up some supplies. Anything you want?"

"Fresh pineapple," Kurt replied with no hesitation.

"Okay. What are you going to do this morning?"

"I… I think I'm going to go for a run, then I'll… I'm going to have to ring Alex. But"

"You'll wait for me to be home before you do that," Mercedes ordered, her face grim.

"Yeah, that's what I was going to say."

"Good. Glad we're on the same page. I'll be back in an hour, tops," Mercedes stated, giving him a quick firm hug. Kurt made a shooing gesture with his hand and watched her grab keys and sunglasses before heading out.

Sipping his coffee he went out the back door and into the garden where Theo dropped the ball he'd been chewing on and bounded over to Kurt for attention. Kurt patted the velvet like ears distractedly and then let out a long sigh. Decided and determined he went and got changed into his, now thankfully clean, workout clothes. Grabbing the spare house key and Theo's leash Kurt set the alarm, locked the house and went for a run. Hopefully it would help clear his head.

When he returned Mercedes' car was back in the driveway. Kurt opened the side gate and took Theo into the back garden, ensuring his bowl was filled with fresh water. Kurt stretched his muscles out, feeling good for the exercise after being stuck sitting for such a large portion of time over the last few days. He wasn't a fan of exercise, but he was even less of a fan of wobbly bits on his stomach. Mercedes opened the back door and watched as Kurt stretched and warmed down.

"You're making me feel lazy you know. Pineapple's all ready for you for breakfast."

"Let me shower and get changed… and then call Alex. I don't want the thought of the phone call putting me off my breakfast. Want to get it over and done with. And I need to phone work, and then the studio," Kurt replied, his mind suddenly filling with all the work responsibilities he had, social engagements, appointments that would need to be rescheduled. He'd have to look at his electronic notepad and go through the next week. He'd gone through it mentally in his head while running, but now he'd have to deal with in actuality.

* * *

Kurt thumbed his contact list, tapped the call icon, and waited. He didn't have to wait long. Alex picked up before the second ring was finished.

"Kurt…I'm so sorry. Please, you've got to Kurt didn't let him get further.

"I don't want to hear it Alex. I want you out of the apartment by next weekend. If Kurt swallowed convulsively, taking a quick swallow of water to ease the tightness in his throat. He would not let Alex hear him cry. He would  _not._  Mercedes gripped his upper arm in support. "If there's anything that you don't know whether you should have it or I should have it, e-mail or text me to ask. I don't want to talk to you again. Let me know what address I can forward any mail to. Just… remove yourself from my life."

"I… Okay. I can do that. I do love you Kurt."

"Obviously not enough," Kurt replied, terminating the call. He turned and hugged Mercedes tightly, resting his chin on top of her head.

"Fuck that was hard…" Kurt muttered into her hair.

"Really? You seem pretty calm and collected to me. Do you think it's wise trusting him around all your stuff? Aren't you a bit afraid that he'll throw stuff out?"

"Honestly? I think he feels so bad right now that he'll not do anything further to hurt me. If it was me packing up his stuff it'd all be out on the road, thrown out the window, or on fire."

"So not so calm and collected then," Mercedes said, smiling slightly.

"No. If you had a boxing bag it's be getting a thrashing right about now. I'm in the mood for some retail therapy later, what do you think?"

"Hell yes!" Mercedes replied, and Kurt could tell that her enthusiasm was only partly forced.

* * *

They were curled up on the couch watching the new Snow White movie, exhausted from hours on their feet shopping, digging in to Chinese takeout boxes, when there was a knock at the door. Kurt raised an eyebrow at Mercedes.

"Expecting someone?"

Mercedes' eyes grew wide and she swore softly under her breath, eyes flicking to the door and back to Kurt.

"It's Mike I forgot that we were meant to have a date tonight. Oh my god, I can't believe I forgot!" Mercedes exclaimed, jumping to her feet and hand over her mouth in horror.

"We can just invite him to join us"

"No! I'm in my pyjamas and wearing a facemask Kurt. This type of stuff is saved for after marriage, not a fifth date!" There was another knock on the door.

"Really? Okay then. You go upstairs and get changed. I'll go answer the door," Kurt stated, smirking. Mercedes looked torn. Leaving her new boyfriend with Kurt for an undetermined period of time, or letting her new boyfriend see her like this.

"Screw it. If he's worth anything, he can deal with me like this and me forgetting our date," Mercedes muttered, but the chewing of her lip belied her nervousness. She stalked to the door, Kurt following her out of curiosity and opened it. A tall African-American man stood on the stoop, hands in pockets of nice dress slacks, Hugo Boss if Kurt knew the cut and material.

"Mike. Hi. Come in."

"Uh, okay. Do I have the day wrong? Wrong time?" Kurt's eyes opened in surprise at the slight accent. It wasn't American. English? Irish? No, he'd just come from London, it definitely wasn't English.

"No, I'm sorry. I completely forgot. Completely. When I heard the knock on the door I remembered…"

"All my fault sorry. I'm Kurt. Mercedes' best friend," Kurt said, stepping around Mercedes with hand out to shake Mike's hand. A warm firm hand shook Kurt's and the man smiled.

"The costume designer," Mike stated, grinning at Mercedes as she nodded in bemusement, her nervousness dropping down a notch.

"You've heard of me?" Kurt asked, fluttering his eyelashes coyly.

"Stop flirting Kurt," Mercedes mumbled, swatting him on the arm. Mike didn't seem perturbed in the slightest and Kurt was quietly pleased. He knew Mercedes wouldn't date someone who was homophobic, but there was a difference between saying you weren't homophobic and then being faced with the reality.

"Only what Mercy has told me. We went to the movies and she made me wait until your name appeared in the credits."

"Aw, you still do that?" Kurt asked; snorting softly as Mercedes nodded. He bumped her shoulder with his and shook his head gently, amused. This was another reason why she was still his best friend, after all these years, he reminded himself. She took such joy in his achievements.

Mercedes stepped back as Mike came in, and she motioned him to the couch. Kurt curled back into his original spot, eyes on his best friend's new beau.

"I'm just going to go and wash this off. I'll be right back. Kurt, be nice!" Mercedes stated, eyes narrowed. Kurt smiled angelically back and Mercedes groaned quietly.

"So…you going to grill me?" Mike asked, smiling openly.

Kurt's eye flicked to the stairs and then back at Mike, and he shrugged.

"I already know quite a bit about you. Mercedes likes to talk," Kurt stated.

"I like listening to her. She's…pretty special."

"Very special. And from everything I've heard, you sound like a nice guy. Real genuine," Kurt said, pausing. "However, you hurt her, emotionally, physically or mentally, doesn't matter, you will know pain like you've never experienced. Are we clear?"

"We're clear. I believe that she's it for me, if it makes you feel any better."

"I'm sure you felt that way about your first wife too," Kurt stated. He knew it sounded bitchy. Hell, it  _was_  bitchy. But Mercedes was his best friend and if he could protect her from any potential hurt then he'd try his best to do so. Also it had the added benefit of not allowing him to wallow in his problems about his own love life.

"I was only twenty three when I married Kara, not even out of college. I was too young and too naïve. It's one of the very few upsides of looking for love when you're older. You know what you're looking for. What you want. What you don't want. Mercedes and I have the same basic values and goals in life. It's a good start."

Kurt nodded in agreement. He knew that Mercedes had met Mike at her church. That they had slowly gotten to know each other over coffee after church, and then lunches, which had progressed into… something more. He knew that Mike had worn down Mercedes' adamant refusal that she was never going to date again and that her life was complete. He was obviously persistent and stubborn enough to put up with Mercedes. That was good. She needed someone as equally strong as her.

"What would you have done if she'd never given in?" Kurt asked, curious.

"I would have been disappointed, but I would still have wanted to be her friend. She's pretty fantastic."

"Preaching to the choir," Kurt replied, smirking.

* * *

Kurt woke early the next morning and let out a long sigh. He'd gone to bed early last night, his internal body clock demanding sleep, and Mercedes not-so-subtle glances at Mike, had made Kurt feel like him disappearing would be appreciated. But now it was five and he was wide awake. Creeping past Mercedes closed bedroom door Kurt's eyebrows shot up and he grinned.  _Someone had a little sleepover_ Kurt thought, grinning.

Once in the kitchen he set the coffee pot brewing and scoured the fridge for breakfast possibilities. Deciding to make crepes Kurt set about mixing and cutting up fruit. He opened the backdoor and let Theo in, humming quietly under his breath. Looking at the clock he set the crepe mixture back in the fridge to await a more reasonable hour to eat. Taking a cup of coffee he sat at the dining room table and turned his laptop on.

Yesterday he'd phoned Sandy and gone through all the work commitments that she could cover for him. Kurt knew he was a workaholic, and that was why when he'd told her he was taking ten days for personal reasons she hadn't asked, which was one of the things Kurt loved about the older woman. She and Kurt had been on the same page creatively ever since Kurt had worked for her as an intern. As she said, she stuck her claws in, and she wasn't letting go of him and had taken him onboard as her assistant when he was fresh out of college. She was now close to retiring, but still had a finger in several pies.

On top of visual-conferencing with Sandy he'd messaged several other people and businesses to shuffle things around. Kurt sat sipping his coffee and going through replies, Theo lying on his feet, wondering whether he'd been a bit rash in taking ten days off from work it was a long time to be away, despite the visual-conferencing and constant contact he had with Sandy.

"Uh…morning," Mike's voice said quietly, interrupting Kurt's thought process. Kurt turned and looked at the other man, standing in the kitchen in what looked like to be a pair of Mercedes' sweatpants and nothing else.  _He looks good_  Kurt had to concede and raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Morning. Comfortable?"

"Uh, yeah, look, we didn't Kurt held up a hand to stop him.

"Ew. Stop. I don't want to know. You're both adults, I'm not her father, and we squared away last night and... I  _really_ don't want to know, okay?" Kurt said. Mike nodded sheepishly, hand scrubbing over his face.

"I suppose Mercedes sent you down for coffee. Tell her to stop hiding and that I'm making crepes. Are you staying for breakfast?" Kurt couldn't help but grin. It surprised him that Mike  _seemed_  more embarrassed about staying the night, rather than standing half-naked in a kitchen with a gay man.  _Obviously very comfortable with his sexuality_ Kurt decided.  _Or I'm wrong. Wouldn't be the first time._

"My shift starts at eight, so yeah, breakfast would be awesome thanks. I'll go get Mercedes."

* * *

Two crepes left on the main plate and an almost empty platter of cut fruit sat on the table. Kurt lent back and grimaced slightly.  _Shouldn't have had that last crepe._  He sipped his coffee as he watched Mercedes drizzle chocolate sauce over her second 'last( _"this is_ really  _my_ last _one!"_ ) crepe.

"We still on for tomorrow night? You can come as well if you'd like Kurt."

Kurt shook himself out from his daydream while watching Mercedes draw doodles in the remaining chocolate sauce on her plate.

"What's on tomorrow night?" Kurt asked cautiously, having learnt from experience not to jump in and say yes to things. That's how you ended up at Tupperware parties sitting beside people you normally tried your best to avoid.

"One of my friends is having a dinner party. He has one every month, but this one is so that Mercedes can meet everyone. And they can all meet Mercedes," Mike explained, his eyes going soft as he gazed at Mercedes. Kurt resisted an eye roll at the obviously smitten man. Mercedes smiled at Kurt, the half-smile-half-grimace Kurt had come to recognise as her determined diva smile and he stifled a laugh, disguising it as a cough. That particular smile meant he would be going to the dinner party on pain of death.

"Having you there would really help me feel more relaxed," Mercedes stated and Kurt sighed, nodding his agreement.

"A dinner party… damn that makes me feel old. Do you remember when we'd just go to a party?" Kurt mumbled, meaning the question rhetorically. "How many people are we talking anyway?"

"Max is twelve. That's all that can fit at the table. And there'll be at least two gay couples there, so you won't be the uh…only one…"

Kurt raised an eyebrow, not sure where to go with that statement. Only single person? God, he hoped not. Obviously not the only gay person. Only single gay person? Well, he'd been  _there_  before.

"That didn't come out right. I mean… there are going to be other gay people there, but there are couples, and single people, and you won't stick out because you're…"

Kurt's eyebrow raised a little higher. He was now secretly amused as Mike seemed to be digging furiously, trying to remove himself from the pit he'd found himself in, and for every step out, he slid two further down.

"Crap. I'm going to shut up now. I just... I think I better leave for work. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Apparently," Kurt replied dryly as Mercedes got up to go and see Mike off.

* * *

Kurt sat in the backseat of Mike's car and stared at the e-mail in disbelief, not sure what Alex and Marcus were telling Cassie, but Alex was  _staying_  with them, and Kurt was to forward all of Alex's mail to their address. Kurt felt his stomach squirm sickly. He had an unopened e-mail from Cassie that he'd avoided reading since that morning.  _What the hell have they told her?_ He quickly opened the e-mail, the unease in his stomach building.

_Kurt, I really hope you're okay. I am so pissed off at Alex right now, he won't look me in the eye, but Marcus insists on him staying. Best friends and all that shit. But I'm completely on your side here baby, although Marcus insists we aren't taking sides. I don't know what it's like to be cheated on but I don't think I'd let the guy get away with anything less than his balls in a jar as a souvenir. Let me know if I can arrange that for you, I know where he's sleeping after all. Please, if there is anything I can do, please tell me. I really mean it Kurt. You say the word, and it's done. I'm assuming you're at your dad's place, or staying with Mercedes. Let me know when you get back to town I'll come around and we can burn anything Alex left behind he's given me his set of keys. Apparently he thinks you'll be happier I've got them. Anyway, let me know if I can put arsenic in his meal tonight it's a salt right?_

_Stay safe and we love you. Cassie (and Jamie) xxx_

Kurt felt his stomach heave and his throat tighten. He swallowed convulsively, trying to work some moisture up in his mouth.  _Bastards, bastards, bastards._  He felt like throwing a tantrum of epic proportions.  _How dare they lie to her!_  He didn't know what to do. Cassie was a friend, but only because of Alex's relationship with Marcus. But they'd become sort-of friends in the past four years.  _Crap._ He could tell her exactly what he'd seen, but it would hurt her, and...  _I don't know what to do, and that's just as fucking annoying_.

"Kurt? Are you okay?" Mercedes asked from the front of the car.

"Um, yeah. Just checking my e-mails," Kurt replied, not wanting to get into the mess that was his love life in front of Mike, who was still really a complete stranger, and this was meant to be a  _nice_  night out.

"Ugh! Honestly, you're addicted to that thing. I haven't seen it leave your hand all day!" Mercedes muttered.

"Yeah well, it's my lifeline," Kurt snarked back, trying to inject some levity into his tone and fearing he'd failed miserably. Mercedes' eyes meeting his in the wing mirror confirmed his fear and Kurt looked away, trying to tighten his hold on the anger and pain that seemed to be renewing itself in his body.

* * *

Mike knocked on the apartment door and Kurt watched as it was opened by one of the most petite woman he'd ever seen. If it hadn't been for the short bob haircut and gentle wrinkles as she smiled and hugged Mike, Kurt would have mistaken her for a child.

"Hey Karen, this is Mercedes, my girlfriend, and her best friend Kurt. Mercedes, Kurt, this is my friend Karen, Dave's partner."

Kurt stood there in shock as both he and Mercedes were hugged fiercely by the diminutive woman, her effusive greeting and welcomes washing over him, and then he winced as she yelled out:

"Dave! It's Mike! And his  _giiirrrlllfriend._ "

"Bloody hell woman, I'm in the next room, not the next state!"

Kurt thought he recognised the voice vaguely, and then he knew he'd recognised it when Dave Karofsky came around the corner of the hallway. Kurt felt like everything simultaneously slowed down and sped up.

Dave looked good, which pissed Kurt off slightly. He was wearing dark jeans that were partly covered by a black apron, white t-shirt underneath a dark green short-sleeved button down shirt. He looked comfortable, at ease and confident in his surrounds. Which made perfect sense, it was apparently his apartment.

Kurt watched as Karen walked back toward Dave and patted him on the ass, watched as Dave good-naturedly rolled his eyes at something she'd whispered before heading towards another part of the apartment. Dave had apparently taken a peek out of his closet, before taking a step back and firmly closing the door again. Dave had come forward and was giving Mike a hug of welcome, their voices white noise in Kurt's ears. Kurt shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

"I can't do this right now. I'm sorry. I'll see you at home Mercedes. Sorry Mike. David," Kurt stated, and then turned on his heel and reopened the apartment door before closing it behind him. He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm, and headed for the elevator.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

 

**CHAPTER TWO – AUGUST 2025 (part 2)**

 

 

Mercedes looked at Dave in shock, eyes registering who exactly the man in front of her was, before taking a step backwards towards the door after Kurt.

"Jones, no. It's alright. I'll go," Dave said, grabbing his house keys from a glass bowl on the table beside the door with one hand, the other tugging at the tie at the front of his apron.

"No, I don't think that's a good idea Karofsky," Mercedes replied, head shaking, already turning to follow Kurt. Mike looked between them, confused.

"You two know each other?" Mike asked.

"We went to high school together," Dave provided, bundling the apron and placing it on top of the bowl. Mike looked at David, and then at Mercedes.

"So…you'd know Kurt," Mike stated, watching David carefully. He caught the quick flash of warning in Dave's eyes, a drawing down of eyebrows, followed by a short sharp nod. Mercedes had paused to watch the exchange.

"I'll go. I'll ring Mike if I think you need to come takeover. Just…trust me on this. I think I know what's wrong."

"I  _really_  don't think you do, and I  _really_  don't think you should be going after him…" Mercedes started, but Dave was already out of the door. Mercedes shoved her handbag into Mike's hands and followed after him.

* * *

Kurt hadn't got very far, he'd had to wait for the elevator, which had taken an eternity, and then he'd simply gone out onto the street, stopping and looking and not knowing what to do, or where to go. Dave and Karen were so  _comfortable_  together, obviously together for a significant period of time. It tugged at Kurt's heart in an aching manner, reminding him of the small ways that Alex and Marcus communicated. Things and gestures that he'd seen and brushed off as simple friendship.  _Bastards._  Hanging out with couples tonight, especially one involving David Karofsky was  _not_  on the cards.

"Kurt…" Dave asked, the voice coming from behind him. "Are you...okay?"

Kurt felt his anger at Alex come welling up and he whirled around and stalked back to Dave, eyes flashing, thoughts whirling, barely noting that Mercedes was just a few feet behind Dave.

"Are you gay, or are you pretending to be straight? Because last time I checked you were gay!" Kurt accused, voice low. Dave frowned, confused at the question. Whatever problem he'd thought Kurt had with him, this wasn't it. Kurt scowled at the hesitation and kicked him sharply in the shin.

"OW!" Dave exclaimed, jumping back. "Mother fucker Kurt! What the hell is your problem?"

"Karen! Your  _partner_!"

"What's your problem with her? You only just met her!"

"Yeah, but are you faithful to her? Or are you screwing some guy on the side to sate those urges you're apparently still denying? I'm sick of people lying to innocent women just because they want the perfect fucking fairytale life!"

"What the fuck are you talking about? She's been my partner for the last five years. And I haven't been screwing anyone for over six months..."

"Wow, a whole six months you've only been having hetero sex."

"What the hell? I'm not having sex. Any sex. Why would I be having…" Dave paused then and looked at Kurt. "Wait. You think that me and  _Karen_  are having sex?"

"She's your partner of five years, what does that usually imply?"

Dave let out a loud bark of laughter that morphed into a full belly laugh. It continued and Kurt scowled, not knowing what was so funny, but he'd never enjoyed the sensation of being laughed at. He crossed his arms and let out a huff of annoyance. Dave's laughter wound down and he managed to catch his breath, words coming out it gasps. Mercedes was wearing a slightly puzzled expression and Kurt was glad he wasn't the only one.

"Karen is…my work partner.  _Just..._  work partners. We're... in the police force together. Partners," Dave explained, taking in deep amused breaths.

"Oh… really?" Kurt asked, starting to feel a blush creep up his neck. Dave nodded, unable to hold back a large grin of amusement. "Well…now I feel stupid. And know far more about your sex life than I ever wanted to," Kurt muttered, feeling not only inordinately embarrassed but like an over-reacting drama queen of epic proportions. Hell, no wonder Dave was amused. Mercedes probably was as well, she just had years more practise at hiding it.

"It's okay…my so called friends are probably going to discuss  _that_  over dinner anyway. But do you normally uh… react this way to thinking a gay guy is with a woman?"

Kurt frowned. He wasn't a teenager anymore, he wasn't even in his twenties. He had matured. Or he'd liked to have thought he had.  _Although my actions in the last few minutes surely throw that theory out the window_. He let out a soft sigh and decided to blurt it out. It would get easier. He knew it would. Mercedes had come closer and enveloped him in a hug, eyes darting warily between the two men.

"His ex is sleeping with his ex – um, that's confusing," Mercedes started to explain and Kurt smiled a little.

"I have an... ex boyfriend, Alex, who cheated on me with one of his ex-boyfriends, Marcus. Marcus happens to be married, to a woman, Cassie, and they have a child together. I've apparently now got issues with  _bisexual_  men who marry women and then cheat on them with my boyfriend because together they're home wreckers. And then lie to their wife and let their ex move in."

"What?" Mercedes squawked.

"Yeah, Alex is now staying with Marcus and Cassie. Got that e-mail in the car on the way here..."

Mercedes started muttering under her breath about the idiocy of people in general and what body parts she'd like to string up as decorations. Dave's eyes widened at the clear descriptors and he glanced at Kurt.

"Um, you don't have to answer if you don't want, but how ex is your ex? I mean, how long ago did you break up?"

"Uh… four days ago."

"Ouch. That sucks. Sorry man…"

"It's fine, I just don't know if I can handle a roomful of loved up people right now."

"Huh – that would be why you ran then, not because you're scared of me?"

"Scared of you?" Kurt replied, looking at him in disbelief. Mercedes was looking amused. "Uh, Dave, I stopped being scared of you when you had to wear that ridiculous beret and walk me from class to class. Anyone willing to look that stupid is not someone I'm going to be afraid of. You and Karen just... made me think of Alex and Marcus."

"Oh. Really? Um. Okay. Well then. So… there are only three couples, just come back and imagine them all wearing those stupid fucking red berets," Dave paused then, his expression changing slightly. "I promise we can throw bread rolls at them if they start getting too disgusting."

Kurt huffed in amusement but couldn't help a small grin at the sudden image that that conjured and nodded, following Dave back into his apartment building, feeling slightly better, shooting a quick look at Mercedes. He felt like such a drama queen right then, but his churning stomach had started to calm already.

"You throw  _anything_  at me and you  _will_  know pain..." Mercedes stated, a finger poking Kurt in his side.

* * *

"Thank goodness you're back! The oven started beeping, and I wasn't sure if I was meant to put things in, or take things out. I was about to phone –" Karen exclaimed as Dave, Kurt and Mercedes re-entered the apartment.

"Karen, relax. Get Kurt and Mercedes a drink and I'll take back my kitchen," Dave stated, cutting her off. Karen looked relieved and turned to Kurt.

"What'll you have?"

"Uh, I think I'll stick with water for now…" Kurt replied. He caught Mercedes' eye and gave her a small smile and nod before following Dave through to the kitchen, leaving Mercedes to organise a drink, find Mike and be introduced to his friends. Kurt would ease himself into the social setting, right now he'd prefer a more quiet setting to gather his thoughts and socialise. Dave was a good place to start. And this way Kurt can avoid the roomful of strangers who may or may not have heard about his abrupt departure.

"Uh, sorry about kicking you," Kurt said, eyes on the floor in embarrassment. Dave's gentle snort, shrug of the shoulders and shake of the head show Kurt he's taken no offence. Kurt thinks that maybe Dave believes he's somehow beholden to Kurt, for the bullying in high school, despite past apologies.

"So, how do you know Mike?" Kurt asked, almost physically shaking past musing from his head as he watched Dave move assuredly around the kitchen, moving dishes around in the oven and then sliding a tray of what looked like little pastries in.

"College. We played hockey together. Then he went to Maryland to specialise, we stayed in touch, and then he moved here about three years ago. Most of the people here tonight are his friends, and we have quite a few friends in common. We play on a casual football team together with Adrian and Keegan."

"Am I going to be eating dinner with a bunch of jocks?" Kurt asks, and he can't deny the slightly flirty tone in his voice. According to Mercedes he's a natural flirt, but he thinks LA has corrupted him with the level of fakeness that some people layer on themselves in an attempt to protect themselves. Kurt adapted to it easily enough when he moved there just under ten years ago, but sometimes struggles to put it aside when he doesn't need it.

"I'd like to think we're a bit beyond those stereotypes. Adrian is a doctor, and Keegan is an accountant. And between Mike, Mercedes and me you know a quarter of the dinner party already," Dave stated, brushing little basket looking things with a glaze of some sort. Kurt hummed in agreement, quietly fascinated and impressed at the ease at which Dave moved around his kitchen.

They hadn't been close friends in their final year of high school, but they had become friends of a sort, and quite frankly anything had been an improvement on the first two and a half years of their high school animosity. Kurt had struggled with Dave's persistent reluctance to come out, and it wasn't until now that Kurt could fully appreciate how much of an ass he'd been.

Dave  _had_  come out to his parents in high school, apparently with the sole purpose to shut his father up about finding another ' _nice girl like Santana_ ', if what Dave had told Kurt was accurate. At the time Kurt hadn't been sure what to be more stunned about, the fact that Dave had actually come out to his parents, or the fact that Paul Karofsky thought Santana was  _nice_.

"So what do you do now? I haven't seen your name up in lights," Dave said, and the gentle tease in his tone took out any possible sting.

"You obviously haven't been looking close enough. I –" Kurt was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. The doorbell rang again quickly afterward and Kurt noted the same calculating look on Dave's face and heard a muffled ' _impatient bitch_ ' muttered under his breath. Calculating look gone, Dave turned on a charming smile. Kurt's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What?"

"Do you mind getting the door?" Dave asked, still smiling and making himself look busy with numerous dishes. Kurt rolled his eyes and headed to the front door again and pulled it open.

"Hi, I'm –"

"If you're Mike's new girlfriend then I think Mike needs his eyes checked," Santana stated, her eyes travelling up and down Kurt before pushing past him to hang up a light jacket in the small coat cupboard.

" _Santana_?" Kurt couldn't believe it. He tried to get his head around the fact that Dave must have known who was at the door, but also that Dave and Santana are obviously still friends.  _Or something._

"Yes, it's me. Kurt, this is Kate, my girlfriend. Kate, this is Kurt. I had the unfortunate task of being one of his  _friends_  in high school."

"Wait. What? We weren't friends in high school. We – wait. Girlfriend?" Kurt asks, a bit stunned. In his mind, he'd kind of frozen Santana in time, with her almost obsessive-like love of Brittany.

"Hi," a willowy blonde greets, and Kurt can't help but notice the similarities to Brittany.  _No surprises there_. She looked sweet, and Kurt's fairly certain he heard an English accent in the one word she has spoken so far.

Throwing propriety out the window Kurt grinned wildly and threw his arms around Santana in a hug, inordinately pleased suddenly to see her, bitchiness and all. Santana patted him awkwardly on the back and tried to extract herself, finally stabbing the sharp pointed heel of her shoe onto his toes. Kurt let go with an undignified squawk of alarm, glares at her, and then quickly hugs her again.

"Are you Dave's side piece? If you are, it's a bit… dysfunctional. Probably works for you though."

"Fuck it's good to see you. Still a complete bitch too," Kurt muttered, grinning. And it  _was_  good to see her. They'd not stayed in touch except for occasionally making sarcastic comments on each other's Facebook pages, but Kurt feels like a sudden weight has been lifted. Mercedes might consol him with wine and chocolate, Santana would offer to go out and cut his balls off and actually  _mean it_. And suddenly he's reminded of Cassie again. He's pretty sure that if they were ever introduced some sort of implosion would occur.

"Hey Satan, I see you've met our surprise guest…" Dave stated, giving Santana a quick peck on the cheek and Kurt wondered how the hell he gets away with  _that_.

"I really wish you wouldn't call her that," Kate murmured and Kurt knew then that it's definitely an English accent now. Like he knows now (via Mercedes) that for some reason Mike's almost-accent is Scottish.

"I'm sorry Princess, but I've been around longer than you have," Dave replied, giving Kate a quick peck as well.

"I know, but it only encourages her," Kate stated, walking past them and into the lounge, and Kurt can't help but be reminded again of Brittany and the slightly head-in-clouds approach to the world. It makes him wonder what Brittany is up to now, and whether Santana knows. Or even cares. He's missed a bit of conversation, and hears Santana threaten Dave with her spiked heel before she stalks away into what Kurt assumed was the living room, judging from the level of conversation coming from the archway.

He can hear Santana's voice in the next room "Oh for fucks sake, what is this? A mini-McKinley high reunion?" This is followed by Mercedes' excited squeal and Kurt can't help but grin, knowing Santana is probably in for another surprise hug-attack.

"You knew it was her at the door," Kurt stated and Dave nodded.

"Last to arrive, and now you know almost half the people at the table. Can't be too bad, huh? I'm pretty sure she wears those heels on purpose so she always has a weapon handy."

Kurt has to agree, on all accounts. It's gone from a dinner where he potentially knew just Mercedes (and Mike if he's feeling generous), to an almost dinner-with-friends type feel to it. All he needs now is for Blaine or Rachel to turn up and the evening would become surreal.

"Also, Santana and Kate get  _disgustingly_  handsy when they've had too much to drink..." Dave added with a wicked grin and Kurt smiled back in bemusement, feeling like he's slipped into a slightly altered reality. But Santana mentioning Kurt being Dave's side piece, something he failed to deny, has just made him realise that Dave must be out. Kurt wondered how far out.

"Are you out at work?" Kurt asked, and he's immediately mortified. Not only is it none of his business, but he feels like he's parroting his seventeen year old self.  _Again._  And he hadn't meant to ask that  _at all_ , he just wanted to make sure there weren't going to be any more McKinley people popping up. _Really_. But Dave seems amused more than anything, and Kurt relaxes against the door jamb slightly.

"Kurt, I'm so out that work use me in their  _Equal Opportunity Employer_ pamphlets," Dave replied.

"It's true," Karen piped in, sliding past Kurt to get into the kitchen. "How far away are we from eating? Harry's already taken his shirt off. Apparently Tom let him have a couple of drinks before coming round. Won't be doing  _that_  again in a hurry," Karen remarked, hand slowly sneaking towards a platter of food.

"Touch that and I won't bring cake in on Monday," Dave states, and Karen grins at Kurt before poking her tongue out at Dave's back. "Anyway, I can't imagine Tom  _letting_  Harry do anything. That boy makes me feel ancient."

"You can't threaten me with lack of cake, it's my birthday on Monday. Anyway, Harry's only seven years younger than you.  _You're_  just a stick-in-the-mud. Have to admit though, the view is nice. Not very often I get the chance to perv on nubile twenty-six year old men..." Karen threw a wink at Kurt then, and Kurt realised that she might be, just maybe, deliberately trying to wind Dave up. He thinks he likes her.

* * *

"Is all of this going to get eaten?" Kurt asked, looking at the multitude of dishes spread in front of him. Spanish tapas apparently, lots of small fiddly looking dishes that Kurt had been helping move from the oven to the large square dining room table. There are twelve different dishes, some varying in size and amounts, but all vastly different. Kurt is eyeing the chilli and lime marinated seafood kebabs with interest.

"Yep. And there's desert afterwards as well..."

"I'll just go and gather the horde," Karen said, heading towards the living room.

People are filing into the room, one guy tugging a t-shirt over his head so Kurt assumed that must be Harry. There doesn't seem to be any order in which everyone is sitting at the table, and Kurt is unsurprised when Karen pushes him to sit and she takes the seat next to him.

The food, drinks and conversation flow around the table and Kurt listens, content to keep quiet and let the lives of these people surround him. Especially seeing as when he opens his mouth he seems to loose 15 years in maturity. Harry is complaining (again, apparently this is something he complains about frequently) how his mother named him after Harry Potter, and how she obviously hates him for inflicting such a hideous name on him. Kurt notes the numerous eye rolls around the table. He's trying to get people to call him Alex.

He learns that Tom is Mike's older brother; they both speak with an almost Scottish accent because they lived there until Mike finished high school. Tom has been with Harry for five years, and Kurt smothers, as best he can, the resentment at seeing such an obviously happy couple. Although they make a slightly odd couple. Tom is an architect, comes across as very calm, collected and with it. Harry on the other hand had apparently finished his masters in computer science and decided he hates the discipline and wants to work as an office manager, where he can boss people around.

Adrian, Christine and Kate have been talking about something that happened at work, and Mike has been busy trying to shut them up, saying he doesn't want to think about work tonight. He's not very successful, Christine, older than most of them by at least a decade, keeps shushing him. Apparently she has three teenage sons, ' _four if I count Mike!_ ' Mike mumbles about already having a mother and not needing another one, but again it's clear there is a close bond there.

Mercedes is charming throughout, asking questions and talking about her own work as a music therapist and teacher. She mentions she loves children, and Adrian informs her he has ' _four of the blighters'_ , and she can have them any time she wants. However it's clear he loves his kids when he brings out his wallet and shows off multiple pictures of a little four-year old girl and three children that have apparently just turned two. He explains that the triplets are why they moved back to the USA from Canada, his home country. His wife Anna has all her family here, and they need all the support they can get.

Kurt watches Santana and Kate with open curiosity. Kate is open in her displays of affection, frequently reaching over to kiss Santana on the cheek. The number of kisses returned increase in number and length the longer the dinner progresses. Dave catches Kurt's eye and holds up a bread roll, quirking an eyebrow and Kurt shakes his head. Weirdly enough, he likes seeing Santana happy. Apparently she's an attorney now, and Kurt imagines she's damn good at her job. He sure as hell wouldn't want to face her in a court room.

Kate has spent a good portion of the meal convincing everyone that the letter K is clearly superior to the other letters of the alphabet, and cites Kurt, Karen and Keegan's presence at the table to prove how one day they'll rule the world. Santana looks amused, and Mercedes adds that Karofsky needs to be counted as a K as well.

That spins into another conversation as to why exactly Dave was called Karofsky so much in high school, and Dave informs them that there were four Davids in his class in middle school, and the teacher called them David, Dave, Karofsky and Theobald to differentiate between them, and Karofsky just stuck. This starts a discussion about teachers in general, and with each other to back each other up, Kurt, Mercedes, Dave and Santana regale the others with amusing stories regarding Sue Sylvester. Mike is equal parts gobsmacked and fascinated, telling Mercedes that while he'd heard some of the stories before, he was fairly certain Dave and Santana had been trying to fool him.

The food is down to small pieces left on each plate, and Kurt takes the last seafood kebab with fake reluctance when Karen shoves the plate in front of him. Keegan, who Kurt had noticed kept almost as quiet as him, had started clearing plates, but not before laying a hand on Dave's shoulder and smiling down at him. Dave smiled back and Kurt wonders at the history between them, because there is definitely something there. It seems keeping fairly quiet and not drinking have entitled him back some years of maturity to not blurt out questions across the room.

Table cleared and cleaned they all move lethargically back into the living room, and Keegan places a large platter of cut fruit and chocolates on the coffee table amidst groans of complaint that nothing more will fit in already over stretched stomachs. He calls them all idiots for not leaving room, before settling himself on the floor within easy reaching distance of the platter. Kurt has commandeered a large wingback chair, and he's curled his legs beneath him, shoes slid under the chair.

He studies the room, a large canvas print of a photo of a vineyard in autumn takes up almost an entire wall, other black and white portrait photos of people Kurt doesn't recognise are hung on the side wall forming a collective piece of art in itself, and behind Kurt is a floor to ceiling bookcase filled with numerous books, but also knick-knacks that surely have some significance. He resists the urge to fossick through the books and study the knick-knacks and instead turns his attention back to the people in the room to find them all looking at him.

"What? Did I spill something?" Kurt asked, quickly glancing down at his still pristine white shirt, which only many years of practise have kept clean.

"Keegan just asked what you do…" Mercedes stated, amused.

"Uh," Kurt pauses. It's been so long since he's been in the company of people who don't know who he is and what he does for a living. "I design clothes. Costumes. I'm a costume designer," he says, and he cringes at the words tumbling out of his mouth in such a nonsensical manner. He hasn't had a single drink, so has nothing to even make an excuse of. He blushes slightly and cringes inwardly at the fact that he's blushing again in as many hours.

"That must be fascinating. So do you do stage stuff?" Christine asks, and her interest seems genuine.

"Um, actually I mainly do movies. I do the occasional piece for the stage, but very rarely." In actuality Kurt's become so well known and sought after that he can pick and choose which projects he thinks are interesting, or will be a challenge creatively. And the only stage pieces he's made in the last five years have all been at the behest (or demand rather) of one Rachel Berry, who tells him that only the best can dress her. He just wishes she'd dress better off the stage, but when she calls him  _the best_ , he forgives her many things.

"He's also being modest," Mercedes states, eyeing him over her wine glass. "He won an Oscar last year."

That statement makes Christine demand to know for which movie, and Kurt is drawn into a gushing conversation with Christine, Karen and, surprisingly, Adrian. The others seem interested, so Kurt talks, slightly embarrassed, about the process of design, story boards, fabric swatches, fitting celebrities. He supposes it all sounds very glamorous, but he doesn't mention the gruelling hours, the costumes which are created and then vetoed, the catty celebrities that treat him like a second rate citizen. Having to deal with fabric wholesalers, trying to find the exact type of fixture for a period dress, doing screen-tests with fabrics and realising that under the lights it  _just won't work_. There are many aspects of his job which he could do without, but the creating side, he would never give that up.

He lists all the movies he has been involved with, and when he states how has just got back from London Kate gets ridiculously excited (it's her home town apparently) and thankfully the conversation veers away from Kurt's job and instead is now centring around travel, worst and best travel experiences, and ridiculous situations people have found themselves in.

Kurt is surprised to learn that Dave seems to have travelled quite a lot, judging from the anecdotes he is sharing. And Kurt can't help himself, but he's _curious_. He wants to know  _more_  about what Dave is like now. However, down that path lies madness. He is fresh out of a four-year relationship, and his life is a four hour flight away. So  _friends_. He's interested in being  _friends_  with Dave. And it means when he comes to Chicago he'll have someone else to hang out with. Friends. He can do that.

Harry is lying on his back, arms and legs splayed from making a ' _carpet angel_ ' and over the top of everyone talking declares that he wants his name to be Kelly, so he can join the other Ks in their plan for world domination. Tom takes this as a sign to go home while Harry is still capable of standing upright, and Karen, Christine and Adrian also all leave, Karen and Adrian saying they'll have early mornings with the kids tomorrow, where as Christine interjects a " _screw the kids! I'm too old for this shit. I just need my bed!_ " And then it is just the seven of them. Four William McKinley High School alumni, Mike, Keegan and Kate.

Santana makes some pithy comment about scaring all the straights away, and Kurt catches Mike's eye roll. Mike probably knows Santana better than he does now anyway. He's curious as to who they might still be in contact with. Not so much Dave, because he doubts Dave has kept in contact with anyone other than Santana that Kurt would care to know about, but Santana has always been…hard to read.

"Just  _ask_  Kurt, I can hear your brain over thinking something," Mercedes says, and Kurt bites his lip. Her brain-mouth filter disappears when she's had more than two glasses of wine and it reminds Kurt of her teenage self.

"I was just wondering if you were still in touch with anyone, from high school I mean," Kurt adds the end of the sentence quickly, before Santana makes some comment about always being in touch with someone.

"Yeah, I see Brittany occasionally. She works at Disneyland. She was Cinderella for a few years. She married Artie and they have a little girl called Jasmine. Artie does something boring with something."

"That narrows it down," Mercedes mutters sarcastically, but Kurt's heart clenches a bit at Santana's either disinterest in Artie, or a deep rooted dislike of the man who, apparently, still holds the heart of her first love.

"So they're in California then, I'll have to try and catch up with them," Kurt said, and even while he's saying it he knows he probably won't.

"And what about you? Who are you in touch with?" Santana asks.

"Well, Finn obviously. He's good. Married to a nice woman called Melanie. He's an auto-electrician, works with my dad. One kid, and another on the way. Rachel's on Broadway. Of course. Blaine's in New York as well, working as a music director. Uh, Puck's a history teacher, Tina designs fabric and Mike's a fresh water biologist," Kurt supplies, and that's it really. Lives summed up in a sentence.

He doesn't know what has happened to Quinn, Lauren, or Sam. And the new comers to glee club in his senior year had little to no impact on him that he's really not interested in where they are now. Now that he's thinking of Quinn, Lauren and Sam though he wonders what they're up to.

"Lauren's a photographer, she does a lot of work for the National Geographic," Dave states, and the smirk on his face shows that he's pleased to know something about one of their high school friends which they don't.

"How do you know that?" Mercedes asks, beating Kurt to the question.

"My last boyfriend was a photographer. He knew Lauren. They'd met at a few prize giving things and stuff. They're pretty close, as colleagues I suppose. She's still got an attitude. She likes photography because she doesn't have to deal with too many idiots on a day-to-day basis."

"That does sound like Lauren," Mercedes murmurs.

Kurt however is studying the photos on the wall with a renewed interest, wondering if the ex-boyfriend was the man behind the camera. He asks for directions to the bathroom, and Dave directs him down the corridor. Kurt goes, padding in his socks. The hallway is lit, and Dave has given him an excuse to look at more of the photos on the walls. ' _Just look for the door with a picture of a bath on it'_  means he doesn't feel so bad about studying the photos that adorn each door way.

The photos are all black and white, and Kurt isn't an expert, but he's fairly sure that they're the same style as those in the lounge. On one door is a picture of Dave holding a baby with three children and he wonders what on earth could be behind  _that_  door, and who the kids are. Opposite is the bathroom photo bedecked door, but Kurt finds himself drawn to the other three doors, his curiosity spiking again. A photo of a made up bed makes Kurt think it's probably a guest room, the other a photo of the children again, this time playing with sheets, and Kurt determines probably a laundry cupboard.

The last photo is also of a bed, however the naked man asleep in it has Kurt biting his lip. There's nothing obscene in the photo, a sheet covers most of the lower half, one leg is thrown out, and he's holding a pillow over his face. The shoulders are broad, chest strong and defined, but not in the way hours in the gym produce. There is a fine cover of hair and it narrows down to a treasure trail that disappears underneath the sheet.

Kurt's fingers itch. He wants to be able to draw the sheet away and just  _look_. He's learnt a lot in the last fifteen years, and that includes the fact that he likes masculine bodies in bed, not a lean coltish body like his own. And this body ticks all his boxes. And then some. He realises then that he's still chewing his lip, it feels swollen, and his attention-starved cock is slowly filling. Groaning quietly Kurt mentally chastises himself. It may have been nearly four weeks, but he's not going to jerk off in Dave Karofsky's bathroom.

And then Kurt looks at the photo in front of him again, and realises that that man lying there has to be Dave. The same Dave who has shown him compassion about his recent break-up. The same Dave who had hefted a bread roll with serious intent to lob it at Santana at Kurt's word. The same Dave who has been smiling and charming all night. And apparently looks like  _this_  naked. He'd lied to himself. He  _is_  going to jerk off in Dave Karofsky's bathroom.

* * *

Kurt closes the bathroom door, resting his back against the closed door, heart racing like he's being chased. He can't believe he is seriously considering getting himself off, right here and right now. He knows that he'll need to be quick, but also knows that it's been four weeks, so  _quick_ won't be a problem. Being able to stop laughing hysterically when he sees Dave again might be.

Still not believing that's he's actually going to do this, he tugs down the zip on his jeans, other hand taking tissues from a box beside the taps. His cock has been steadily filling and getting harder, obviously thrilled at even the slightest amount of thought or attention Kurt is finally throwing its way. Double checking that the door is definitely locked, he pulls his underwear and jeans to his knees. He can't risk getting come on them, because  _that_  would be a dead giveaway.

He spits roughly into his hand, the sound loud in the quiet of the bathroom, and he bites back another groan at how absolutely  _filthy_  he feels right now. Hand encircling his cock he grasps firmly, but not tight enough to stave off coming. Time is of the essence. The feel of flesh on flesh, even if it is his own, has been too long, and he doesn't have time to cast about for elaborate fantasies to help himself along. All he's thinking of is of being in that picture, lying in a bed after being thoroughly fucked.

His mind feels over stimulated, providing images from nowhere of Dave below him, above him, around him. Hot searing kisses, the coarse feel of stubble against lips, fingers dragging down his back.  _Fuck._  Kurt feels his orgasm approaching fast, the warm tight feeling starting in his stomach, feeling like it's dragging his entire body into a small tight ball before it explodes with energy.

" _Fuck…_ " Kurt moans as he comes, quietly he hopes.

He swears to never go that long without getting off again, because no way in hell did he just have one of the best orgasms of his life. On second thoughts, maybe he will go that long, if that type of orgasm is the end result. He rests his head against the tile wall for a brief moment, getting his breathing back to normal. Patting his face with some water he then tidies up, meticulously washing his hands and ensuring the bathroom doesn't look any different. The fact that he just got off in David Karofsky's bathroom, to thoughts and images of Dave Karofsky himself has made him feel different. He just isn't sure quite how.

* * *

"Sorry, got distracted by the other photos in the hallway," Kurt says, hoping he comes off as nonchalant, as he re-enters the lounge. He can't help but glance over at Dave, and he knows his cheeks are still flushed, however Dave avoids looking him in the eye, and looks a bit flushed as well. Kurt wonders what he's missed.

"Are you ready to go? We want to make church tomorrow," Mercedes supplies, and Kurt admires her devotion. She's not a morning person, and with the hangover she'll be toting, he's going to try his best to avoid her tomorrow until at least two in the afternoon, which is now only twelve hours away. Maybe he'll avoid her until Monday.

Kurt's mind is buzzing, tired. He hears Dave telling Keegan he can just stay the night, rather than getting a cab. Mike vetoes that with an offer of a ride home for Keegan, who accepts. Watches Santana and Mercedes hug, and watches Kate hug everyone. Apparently she becomes friendly with everyone when she's a bit drunk.

Hears Dave ask him how long he's in Chicago, but Mercedes answer for him. Tells him she'll text him Kurt's number from Mike's phone so they can organise getting together for drinks or something. His mind is barely alert enough to shout  _No! No! No!_ but is ignored. Drinks with Dave might prove interesting anyhow, and he might get a few answers to some of the questions that have popped into his head tonight.

He says goodbye in a daze, and he must look shattered, because Mercedes is gently ushering him towards the parked car. He doesn't even remember leaving the building. Keegan and Mike are talking about football practise tomorrow afternoon. As he settles himself in the back of the car his head hits the headrest and he realises he still really needs to pee.

TBC...

 


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE – AUGUST 2025 (part 3)**

Kurt hides in his room most of Sunday. He can hear Mercedes stomping around and swearing. He's pretty sure that because she's so careful to never swear at work, when she's not at work she (sometimes) makes up for it.  _In spades_. He can't recall her swearing around Mike though.  _Probably trying to come across as lady like_. While she's at church Kurt takes the opportunity to go for a run, have breakfast and make some sandwiches he can stockpile in his room. He just wants some quiet time to himself, and Mercedes knows what his closed door means.

He does some work, flicking e-mails to various suppliers, organising fabric samples to be delivered so that they're waiting for him when he gets back to LA. He's at the start of two new projects, which is unusual, normally he has three jobs, each at a different stage. He sketches out some ideas, his mind not really focussed on either job, but he'll at least have  _something_  to e-mail Sandy tomorrow. He sends Cassie a carefully worded e-mail saying that he'd love to have her around for coffee when he's back, but refrains from inviting Marcus.

He phones his Dad and tells him that he and Alex have broken up, and no, there is no chance of reconciliation. He doesn't want to go into the particulars but his dad draws them out of him slowly, like thorns in his side. He cries again, but soft soothing words reassure him that he's strong, and he'll get through this, and Alex isn't worth a second more of his time.

Carol comes on the phone briefly and asks him when he'll be back in LA, and also when he's next coming to visit. There is no censure in her voice, just love, and wanting to know when she'll next see her other son. He promises a weekend visit in September, knowing that by then his new niece or nephew should have arrived, so he can justify the trip to his work-obsessed brain.

* * *

Monday passes in a blur. Mercedes returns to work, and Kurt takes the opportunity to actually think about the two jobs he has, one a period film set in the late-1800s, and the other a science-fiction film which grants him far more artistic licence. The harder he focuses on work the less he needs to think about anything else. He knows he's meant to be on holiday, however too much time and nothing to do is just a recipe to make him miserable. So he works. He sort of feels like he's being more productive here, with less distractions, but it's hard to tell, but he knows he'll be able to judge his productivity when he's back in LA.

When Mercedes finishes her evening music classes she drags out her old Xbox and tries to put in rock band. Kurt laughs at her when it doesn't work and she retaliates by throwing the cordless controller at him. He decides he'll go out and buy a new gaming system tomorrow, as long as it has a game or something they can sing with. He mentally reminds himself to ring Finn and ask him. He still plays a stupid amount of Xbox. Enough that Melanie, his wife, is always saying she already has two children. Considering how much of a baby Finn can be about certain things, Kurt agrees with her.

* * *

Tuesday passes much the same way as Monday, except Kurt gets a taxi into the city centre and goes shopping again. He finds the latest model Xbox and the sales assistant must work on commission, because he loads Kurt up with a set of drums, two guitar controllers, two microphones, two microphone stands (so they can sing and play an instrument at the same time apparently), and five different games involving music and/or singing.

He turns down the offer dancing and singing games combined. Singing and dancing was easily done fifteen years ago, now they're more likely to do themselves an injury tripping over a piece of furniture. He unpacks it all and sets it up once he gets back to Mercedes'. He places the old Xbox, controllers and games in the recycling bag provided by the shop assistant and tests out the system, singing the first song that pops up on the screen, by some band called Sferics.

In the early afternoon Mercedes calls him and asks if it's alright if they go and do something that evening with Mike. Kurt says he's quite happy to stay by himself, he doesn't need to be a third wheel, but Mercedes assures him he won't be. And when the evening comes and Kurt finds himself sitting with Mercedes on  _grass_  at the side of a football field named after some guy called Bill he knows why Mercedes wanted him along.

They're here to watch Mike train, and it's no hardship for Kurt to watch forty grown men run around with their shirts off (although there are a few he wishes had left their shirts on). It's a blistering hot sticky summer evening and his jeans are getting more wear this week then they have in the last  _year_. Why he'd  _agreed_  (i.e. bribed) to come with her to watch  _football training_  and why he's wearing  _jeans_  in this heat, well, he's not sure what possessed him on either account.

Actually, the promise of dinner and drinks  _after_  the training had influenced his decision, a lot, when Mercedes had finally told him where they were heading (she obviously thought he wouldn't jump from a moving vehicle. And she's right. Mostly). However, he doesn't think he'd have needed the added incentive of dinner and drinks if she'd mentioned that the guys would be running around shirtless. So all in all, he can't regret his decision.

Kurt's fairly certain that his sunglasses hide his eyes well enough so as not to feel overly perverted. He can feel the very slight breeze coming from the small lake behind them, and wonders how long it will take him before he gets bored. Staring at eye candy is all well and good, but it's also reminding him of the wholly embarrassing incident from Saturday night, and becoming turned on while sitting next to his female best friend is just… well, it'd be weird on several levels. Not to mention awkward.

His knowledge of football is sketchy at best. He's endured more games then he cares to remember, and he learnt pretty early on to stop asking questions. His dad has endless patience for everything. Except football apparently. Even Carol likes watching football, which baffles Kurt. He's yet to find a sport which he likes watching and has resigned himself to just not being interested. He can live with that.

"They seem pretty relaxed about Dave and Keegan being on the team," Kurt stated, having watched as Dave and Keegan both received back slaps and shoulder punches at various times. That male-male body language which Kurt has always found eluded him. Finn used to try with fist bumps, but quickly gave up under Kurt's withering disbelieving scorn.

"Apparently it's meant to be a gay team. But they didn't have enough guys, so opened it up to straight guys. Mainly close friends and family. So most of those guys you're pretending not to perve on play for your team," Mercedes replies, trying to hold in a giggle as Kurt's eyes widen behind his sunglasses as he views the field with more interest. "Stop drooling Kurt."

"I am  _not_  drooling. Really though? How many? I mean, what percentage are we talking here?" he asks, and he knows he's just blown any chance at feigning disinterest. Mercedes will be using this as ammunition for  _years_. God, he hopes Finn never finds out.

"About seventy-five percent, depending on the shifts the guys are working. I should have mentioned that, rather than dinner huh?"

"What?" Kurt asks, not hearing her past the first few words, because suddenly he's watching the male-male body language with a whole new set of eyes. There is obviously at least one couple out there, because despite his lack of football knowledge, he knows it doesn't involve the occasional kiss or butt pinch. Well, maybe the butt pinch, he's not sure. He throws a cheeky smirk at Mercedes before settling down again to watch, intrigued.

* * *

They have to wait for the guys to shower, and Kurt is insanely curious as to whether they all shower together as one happy football team, or whether they split up. Either way, he's grateful for the fact that they are showering, he doesn't want to dine with so many sweaty men, no matter how attractive. Only ' _a handful_ ' of guys are coming to dinner according to Mike, but Kurt has never known how to interpret that, after all, a handful of sand and a handful of popcorn result in two completely different numbers.

When approximately fifteen players finally join the three of them at a large table in a sports bar-slash-restaurant that is all dark wood, large TV screens and soft down lights, Kurt feels slightly overwhelmed. He's glad that he knows Mike, Keegan and Dave already. A quick glance at Mercedes shows that she's feeling pretty smug, being the only female at the table.

They're both introduced around the table, both as friends of Dave's from high school, and Mercedes as Mike's girlfriend. Kurt doesn't bother trying to remember so many names, particularly when he'll likely never see these men again, or be able to talk to them over the large table anyway. However he is a bit miffed when none of them eye him with anything more than polite interest.

He  _knows_  he doesn't look his best right now. After all, he's in a pair of jeans from last season and a slightly crumpled shirt that was sticking to him uncomfortably less than half an hour ago. But surely he doesn't look so bad that there isn't even a single flicker of interest from  _any_  of them. He feels his heart sink, a heavy weight in his chest. Maybe he's past his prime. Maybe he is just meant to be alone. He slumps a bit in his seat.

A waitress comes and takes drink orders, and the easy banter between her and the guys make it clear that this is part of their routine. She's back a few minutes later with the drinks and asks if they want their usual meals. Mercedes and Kurt both order a chicken dish, and Kurt waves off Mike's comment that maybe they want to order smaller meals, or even entrées. Mercedes gives Mike such a fierce look he promptly shuts up. She excuses herself to use the bathroom and Mike scoots into her vacant chair so he is sitting beside Kurt

"I have a favour to ask…" Mike starts and Kurt frowns. Most good things don't start this way. He gestures at Mike to continue.

"It's Mercedes and my two month anniversary on Friday, and I was wondering if I could take her out to dinner. I know it's your last night in town, so thought maybe you'd have special plans, and if you do I can take her out on Saturday, but I just thought I'd ask…"

Kurt is both amused and touched that Mike feels the need to ask  _his_  permission. He could have simply asked Mercedes, and she – Kurt stops mid-thought and grins at Mike, his head shaking.

"You're asking me because I'll put Mercedes first and say yes. Because if you asked her, she'd put me first and say no," Kurt surmises, and knows he's right when Mike nods, a little shamefaced.

"Go, take her, I'll waste away in front of her TV eating myself into an early grave, gorging on too much ice cream and chocolate."

"I doubt that very much," Mike says, voice wry.

"You could come hang out with me. We didn't really have a chance to have a proper catch-up on Saturday. We could go out clubbing or something."

"Clubbing? At our age?" Kurt asks, and he doubts they'd find much out about each other in a club. However his stomach does a little flip at Dave's invitation and he wants to roll his eyes at himself. He's convinced himself that Saturday night was an anomaly, his body desperate for any form of release. It was simply a coincidence.

"Hey, we're in our early thirties, not geriatrics! And I said  _or something_ ," Dave replies, and Kurt can't help himself but put lots of filthy innuendo on those last two words, regardless of how innocently Dave meant them. His body and sub-conscious mind seem determined to make everything Dave says and does somehow sexual.

"See as I am being abandoned in favour of a romantic dinner, I suppose I can grace you with my company," Kurt says.

Keegan snorts beside Dave and shoots Kurt an amused look. Kurt smiles back at him coyly, and for some reason this causes both Dave and Keegan to let out loud snorts of laughter. Kurt frowns, feeling a bit hurt at the response, but not knowing whether he'd be over reacting if he called them on it. He keeps quiet simply because he's felt like enough of a drama queen in the last week as it is, without adding to it.

And despite the fact that he really doesn't care what Dave thinks of him, he still doesn't want to give him any additional cause to think he's more unhinged than he's already feeling. Even if he feels like a sexless waste of space right now and wants to rant to the world about the injustice of it all. He draws into himself a little and lets the conversation at the table wash over him.

* * *

The meals arrive and Kurt eyes it in disbelief as it is placed in front of him. It's massive. No wonder the football team eats here. The amount of food on the plate would easily equate to three evening meals for him, and he doesn't starve himself. Mercedes is looking at her plate in equal parts horror and delight, and Mike is obviously biting back an ' _I told you so'_. The others are enthusiastically devouring their meals, and Kurt supposes the majority of them were all running drills for nearly two hours.

"I'm not going to have room for dessert!" Mercedes moans quietly, and Kurt snorts.

"There's always next time," he replies as he starts his meal. The food is good. Not overly fancy, but it is tasty and hot and there's a lot of it, and that's what counts right now. At least to the majority of the table. Kurt wishes he'd listened to Mike.

* * *

Wednesday the humidity reaches unbearable levels and when the threatening thunderstorm finally breaks Kurt revels in the sound of heavy fat drops hitting the roof. He takes a luxurious feeling afternoon nap and wakes up to a text message from Dave. They'd left dinner last night without making any concrete plans. Kurt hadn't wanted to push it, especially if the offer had been made with the intent for it never to be truly accepted. Kurt had resigned himself to that idea when Dave hadn't bought it up again.

However the text message in front of him asking him ' _You still keen for Friday?_ ' tells him the offer was genuine. He quickly sends back an affirmative response and gets a ' _Come to my place at 7. We'll figure something out_ ' back within a few minutes and he can't help but grin like an idiot for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

Kurt allows Mike and Mercedes to drop him off at Dave's apartment, reassures Mercedes he'll be fine and is perfectly capable of not only getting a cab home by himself, but he can also go to the bathroom on his own now as well. She pokes her tongue at him but waves cheerily as they drive off. She's told Kurt not to expect her home tonight and Kurt really doesn't want to think about what  _that_  entails.

He buzzes in to Dave's apartment, feeling a bit odd to be coming here by himself, to catch up with a guy he sort of knew back in high school, but has almost become friends with. This will be their third meal together in a week. That's more meals than Kurt's had with his family in Lima in the last six months. He wonders what they'd think if they knew where he was right now.

He knocks on the door to Dave's apartment and doesn't have to wait long before it's thrown open and Dave is standing there, a surprisingly wide smile on his face. Kurt can't help but smile back. It's just one of those types of smiles.

"Hey, you made it," Dave says, and Kurt wonders if maybe Dave is slightly nervous. There was a very slight waver to his voice. He dismisses it.

"Yeah. Mercedes and Mike dropped me off. Made me feel like a teenager. Only thing she didn't do was impose a curfew," Kurt says, toeing off his shoes to match Dave's barefoot look.

"You guys seem pretty close," Dave remarks, heading back into the kitchen, where Kurt can smell something divine cooking.

"Yeah, we've been through some pretty rough times together. What are you making?" Kurt asks, and if the subject change seems abrupt to Dave he doesn't comment on it. Kurt doesn't want to think about those rough times right now.

"It's a new recipe. You're my guinea pig. Mango-glazed chicken on couscous with salad. Nothing too elaborate. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Well, it smells great. What are you having?"

"I've got a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc to go with dinner, but I'll probably have a beer right now."

"I'll have a glass of Sauvignon thanks," Kurt says, and watches as Dave expertly opens the bottle and pours Kurt a glass.

They walk into the living room again and Kurt takes up his position in the same chair that he had on Saturday night. Again the photos catch his eye, and this time he feels free to ask.

"Who are the kids in the photos?"

"Hmm? Oh, them? My niece and nephews."

"You have siblings?" Kurt asks, a bit taken aback. He'd thought he'd known that Dave was an only child, like himself. Until Finn became part of his family, but still.

"Yeah, two sisters. Both older."

"Huh. Weird. I always kind of thought you were an only child."

"Well… I suppose I could be called an only child as well. I mean, Pat and Jen are around a decade older than me and we never lived together, so… yeah."

"What do you mean?"

"Um, well, my Dad was a bit of a douche when he was younger. He cheated on his first wife. Uh. He cheated a lot. With numerous women. Not with my mom, but others. Pat and Jen are his kids from his first marriage. He divorced their mom when Pat was nine, and then he met my mom about two years later. He's older than her by like sixteen years…" Dave pauses and looks at Kurt only to find him listening intently.

"Anyway, they hooked up and got married. My mom's a doctor. Very career driven. Kids weren't in her plans at all, so when she found out she was pregnant with me… well. She wasn't a big fan of having Pat and Jen stay either. Two teenage girls and a baby son were not her idea of a pleasant weekend. I didn't see much of Pat and Jen until I was older. I'm pretty close to them now though. Jen lives here. In Chicago I mean."

"Did your mom leave you?"

"What? No… Oh. You think because she didn't want kids? No. My mom… she's not one of the most maternal women in the world. I mean, she loves me, but I think she'd have been perfectly happy to never have me. My dad calls me the best mistake he ever made. For mom it was a mix up between antibiotics and the pill and they took a risk…"

"Still, that's kind of sucky…"

"No, it wasn't bad. She was at all my games, came to school camps, is always there for me. She never made me feel unwanted or unloved. She's great. But I always got the impression she would have been quite happy if I'd never been born as well. I think she makes a better friend than mom though. One of the perks of being an adult now – we get on great. She's relaxed about Jen and Pat too. I think when she was younger they were maybe a bit of a threat. That and they're only like twelve years younger than my mom."

"Oh," Kurt murmurs, feeling a bit bewildered by Dave's explanations and wonders how it might feel growing up knowing you're not wholly wanted. He wonders also whether Dave always knew how his mom felt, or if the realisation came to him, pieced together as he grew. Either way, Kurt suddenly feels a bit heartened by the fact that he knows he was loved and wanted always and unconditionally by both his parents.

* * *

When Dave returns from the kitchen and tells Kurt that dinner is ready he's glad. He's just finished his second glass of wine and is feeling decidedly light headed. They've talked about movies they've seen and want to see, with Kurt admitting he's lost a lot of his awe of movies now that he works in the same industry. He's learnt that Dave plays the saxophone, something his mother wanted him to do so he'd be better rounded. Kurt can't help but be amused by that, but likes the fact that the saxophone in the corner of the room is not simply for show. He's learnt that Dave is a bit of a wine nerd, and all his travelling has predominantly been to vineyards in various parts of the world, and from the sounds of it his ex-boyfriend Greg the photographer footed the bill, being a specialist photographer of vineyards apparently. It gives the large canvas print of a vineyard in Dave's lounge a lot more significance.

He follows Dave through to the dining room and does a double take at the table. What had been a very large square table on Saturday is now a much smaller rectangular table set for two. It's obviously one of those tables which size can be altered. He feels a little squirm in his stomach at how couple-ish it feels. Like a romantic date. Then he realises that he's going to need to use the bathroom at some point and he holds back an embarrassed groan as he sits down.

"I've made a dessert as well," Dave says as he places a plate in front of Kurt, salad and couscous in separate bowls in front of him.

He sits as well, and Kurt can't help but notice how Dave's arms look in his t-shirt. The other man is only wearing jeans and t-shirt, having mentioned to Kurt he'd spent all day in his uniform so just needed to relax for a while. Kurt hadn't minded. Still didn't mind in fact. The jeans and t-shirt aren't loose and baggy, so provide Kurt with a glimpse of muscled thigh beneath denim, and firm chest and stomach beneath cotton.  _Not a date, not a date, not a date_  Kurt starts the chant in his head.

"More wine?" Dave asks and Kurt nods. He's not driving, and if they do go out clubbing then he'll need all the Dutch courage he can consume.

* * *

Through dinner Dave keeps the conversation flowing with amusing stories about his nieces and nephews. Kurt has a few of his own about his own nephew. Dave obviously has a lot to do with his sister Jen's kids, because it's their bedroom in the hallway. The meal is over, dishes cleared to the dishwasher in the kitchen and they're halfway through the second bottle of wine and Kurt feels decidedly relaxed.

"Have you ever been cheated on?" Kurt asks, and he knows he has the wine to thank, but also doesn't want to take the question back or apologise. He wants to know. Dave looks at him, a sympathetic look on his face.

"Once. About ten years ago. It really does… just suck."

"What did you do to him?"

Dave laughs then, head shaking.

"Not as simple as that, really. I'm still friends with him. Good friends actually. It forced us to talk to each other and realise we weren't working any more. Hadn't been for a while."

Kurt is gobsmacked.

"You forgave him?"

"Well, I punched him first, but yeah, I forgave him. Eventually. New boyfriend helped," Dave grins, and Kurt huffs in amusement.

"That it would. Always seems to help ease the hurt doesn't it…" Kurt muses, and he thinks back to the complete lack of anything from the men on Tuesday night and frowns. His chances of having a one-nighter to make himself feel a bit better seem slim to non-existent. At least here in Chicago.

"You okay?" Dave asks,

"Yeah, just a bit down. Sorry, didn't mean to bring you down as well."

"It's okay," Dave replies, shrugging. "So, you ever consider getting back together with your first love?" Dave asks.

"Who? Blaine? Ew… no. Just, no. I mean, we're friends now, and I love the guy, but we just don't click..." Kurt says, a blush appearing on his neck, and Dave cocks an eyebrow. Kurt wonders why he never noticed how perfectly shaped they are.

"But he is your first love, right? Good that you've managed to stay friends with him after all this time. Sometimes people are together, break up to grow up, and then get back together. It happens."

"I don't think that's going to happen. Not for me and Blaine anyway. Is that what you're hoping for with the first guy you loved?"

"Uh...no. I don't know. I mean, I was never with the first guy I loved, so we wouldn't be re-kindling anything... it'd be starting something from scratch, which would be impossible. He's... moved on anyway. So, you and Blaine don't gel in the sack huh?" Dave asks, his grin mischievous. Kurt feels his blush reappear and rolls his eyes.

"He was… nice to learn things with. I wasn't… passionate about him, but it was an experience that I'll never regret. We learnt together, and had a lot of fun. But we realised once the learning was over that there was… nothing there, once the excitement of trying something new had worn off, you know? He was safe…"

"Yeah, I get what you mean. That's kind of why Keegan was my first boyfriend. I wasn't afraid of breaking him."

"Wait,  _Keegan_  Keegan?" Kurt asks, mind conjuring the tall, broad-shouldered, friendly but still quietly reserved man. Good looking as well. Dark hair, striking blue eyes. He's a bit taken aback. Hell, he's  _a lot_  taken aback. He'd kind of thought Dave would go for… well, men more like himself, not fellow jocks. Keegan would be a couple of inches taller than Dave, and equally broad shouldered.

"The one and only. I'm his type, but he's not mine. Especially after I punched him."

"He's the one who cheated on you?" Kurt asks.

"Yep," Dave replies, and finishes his glass of wine and then refills it. "I've learnt that even nice people do shitty things. My dad. Keegan. Me," and he catches Kurt's eyes with his.

"If you're referring to high school then it doesn't count. Everyone does shitty things in high school. Me included."

"Yeah well, to shitty things we did in high school," Dave says, raising his glass in a toast and smiling grimly. Kurt smiles and raises his own wineglass.

* * *

Dave has gone to get a third bottle of wine and dessert. Kurt's fairly sure that the idea of clubbing has gone out the window, and he's grateful. He has never been a big fan of the club scene, and the rate Dave and he are going they're going to end up lying on the carpet in his lounge staring at the ceiling and giggling.

"OW!"

Dave's loud exclamation has followed the sound of something falling and splattering, and then a string of swear words that would do Mercedes proud. Kurt is up out of his chair, only slightly unsteady, and moving swiftly to the kitchen.

Dave is standing there, empty pie dish on the floor and hot (what used to be) pie spread all over the floor, as well as Dave's feet. He's trying to ineffectually wipe the pie off his feet on the back of his jeans. Kurt cringes at how painful that sort of rough fabric would feel against freshly burnt skin.

"Stop," Kurt orders, flying in to motion. He sidles around the splattered pie, grabs the tea towel and rinses it under cold water in the sink before passing it to Dave.

"Thanks. The dish just slipped. And I dropped it right onto my foot," Dave mutters, obviously not impressed with himself.

"Go and run cold water over your foot. I'll clean up in here," Kurt instructs, and Dave nods before gingerly removing himself from the pie splatter zone.

Kurt moves quickly, a bit disappointed that the rhubarb and raspberry pie he'd been smelling for the last hour was now gracing the kitchen floor. He uses paper towels to wipe up the hot sticky mess, and then wet ones to remove the last of the sticky residue. He places the empty pie dish in a sink filled with water to soak and goes to check on Dave.

* * *

Dave is sitting on the edge of the bath in the bathroom, cold tap running over his now bright pink foot. It looks viciously angry to Kurt as he stands in the doorway, trying not to think about what he did in this bathroom last Saturday night.

"How does it feel?" Kurt asks, and Dave looks up at him.

"Sore. I think the cold water is making it look worse than it is though. Pretty sure I can feel a lump coming up already, and I'm pretty sure that there's a bruise forming," Dave replies, pointing at his foot. Kurt steps a bit closer and notes the small black bump.

"Ouch. At least nothing is broken. I've cleaned up as best I can."

"Thanks. And I'm glad nothing's broken either. Lamest injury ever. I dropped a pie dish on my foot. Doctors in the emergency room would crack up."

"Still, it looks fairly painful. You need to keep it there for at least ten minutes. I'll go and get our wine glasses."

When he returns to the bathroom Kurt thinks this has to be one of the most surreal evenings of his life, sitting in a bathroom sipping wine and talking to Dave Karofsky about the loss of pie.

* * *

Twenty minutes later they're back in the lounge, bowls of ice cream and left over pie filling in their hands. Dave makes some comment about how it will ruin the taste of the wine, but being too drunk to really care. Kurt agrees, but it doesn't stop him devouring the impromptu dessert.

"You're pretty down tonight."

Dave's comment brings Kurt out of his reverie and he smiles sadly, feeling bad that he's turning out to be such miserable company tonight. He knows that the thought of returning to LA tomorrow is weighing on his mind, and the alcohol is letting his usual façade slip.

"Sorry. Just thinking about going home tomorrow. Not looking forward to it. Feeling pretty shitty all round really."

Dave grimaces at the vulnerability in Kurt's voice.

"I mean, on Tuesday night at dinner none of the guys even looked at me sideways, it was like my dad was standing behind me with his shotgun."

"Uh… yeah. About that… I may have said something to them."

" _What_?"

"I didn't want any of the guys to make you feel uncomfortable. You've just broken up with a guy, and I didn't think you'd want a whole bunch of guys hitting on you," Dave explains, but he also thinks that maybe he hadn't wanted to see any of them flirt with Kurt, just in case Kurt had flirted back.

"Well… that was… sweet of you. But unnecessary. I could have done with some attention. I just...I wanted to feel desired. Sexually."

"Oh. Sorry. I just…"

"Kiss me," Kurt demands and Dave looks at him in disbelief.

"What?"

"Kiss me. Just…make me feel like I'm a desirable man."

"I really don't think that's a good idea. I mean, we have nothing in common. You're attractive enough – "

" _Excuse_  me? Attractive enough? Well screw you too!"

"Shit, that came out wrong. Look…" the pause was long, and Kurt could see Dave thinking through what he wanted to say. Kurt hoped like hell it was an improvement on what he'd just said. Shit, he wasn't asking for a life commitment, or even sex. Just a kiss. Which would probably (hopefully?) lead to a make out session, but still, nothing serious.

"We're barely friends. Acquaintances at best. And while I find you attractive, very attractive, hell, Kurt, you're the archetype of my type, but I need more than that before I sleep with someone. And you're  _fresh_  out of a relationship. How long had you been together with him?"

"Four years. I'm not –"

"Holy… that's a long time. You need to grieve for that relationship Kurt. Allow yourself to be angry and hurt and numb. Don't be little something you spent four years on by jumping into bed with the next available guy. You're allowed to be sad you know."

Kurt's torn between annoyance (hell, he's pissed!) and being strangely touched by Dave's words. He also wants to sort of kick him in the shin again.

"I'm not asking to sleep with you. I'm asking for a kiss."

"I think that's a bit naïve at our age don't you?"

"Maybe, but I just… need this.  _Please_."

The heartfelt plea in Kurt's voice, and the sad and slightly desperate look on his face break something inside Dave. He stands and holds a hand out, intending for Kurt to stand in front of him, which he does, slightly hesitantly. Dave takes the opportunity to drink in Kurt's features, fingers going feather light to brush over Kurt's cheekbones, down his neck.

"You have this effortless sexuality. You're so confident in who you are and what your body is capable of, that it just rolls off you in waves. It's so  _hot_. Even in high school you just...you knew who you were, and nobody was going to tell you any different. Fuck it was sexy. You want to know the number of times I jerked off to thoughts of you? Not dirty filthy thoughts, but just you walking, the sway as you walked, the way you stand with a hip jutting out... I can't tell you the number of times. It was a lot. And the fucking dreams. God, you haunted me. And you had no idea what you were doing to me. No idea what you were doing, and that was sexy as hell. Still is."

Dave's hands were on his hips, hot breath on his neck as the words washed over him, tugging him closer so that they were standing chest-to-chest.

"There were at least three guys who were pissed at me on Tuesday night when I said you were off limits. So it's not just me saying this to make you feel better. You are…so fucking hot. When I saw you on Saturday, you'd gotten hotter than high school. Everything about you… the way your fingers hold the stem of a wine glass, how when you smile you smile with your eyes."

He's going to say more, but instead his lips are on Kurt's. The taste of wine, fruit and ice cream mix between them as Dave nibbles slowly, almost hesitant in his slow exploration of Kurt's lips. Kurt responds fervently, his tongue darting out to lick at Dave's lips, before he opens his mouth, takes Dave's bottom lip between his teeth and  _sucks_.

Dave groans, glad that Kurt isn't a passive partner in this. He has one hand on Kurt's hip, the other on his neck, both firm in their desire to pull him closer. So he does. His hand on Kurt's hip moves around to squeeze an arse cheek and he grinds against Kurt as his tongue slides into Kurt's mouth, past teeth to trace the ridges on the roof of his mouth.

Kurt's body is both languid and determined. One hand is in Dave's hair, changing between tugging and stroking, and the other hand is on Dave's back, his hand having navigated past the t-shirt with ease to find warm bare skin. He can feel Dave's cock, hard against him, and the idea that he's turning Dave on is intoxicating.

"Bedroom. Please. Not sex, just… please. I need…" Kurt's words are disjointed and breathy and Dave can feel Kurt's erection pushing against his hip. He _knows_  this isn't a good idea, but his mind is hazy with alcohol and arousal. He continues to kiss Kurt, even as he moves, stepping carefully, tugging Kurt's body as he moves.

They make it to the bedroom intact, and Kurt is tugging at Dave's t-shirt, mumbling ' _off off_ '. Dave obliges easily enough and Kurt returns the favour by quickly unbuttoning his own shirt and throwing it onto the floor. Dave takes a brief moment to appreciate the creamy flawless skin, fingers running from Kurt's hipbones, up, over his stomach and chest, to cup his head and reinitiate the kiss.

The bed is beside them, and if Kurt's mind wasn't focussed so completely on Dave's hands, lips, body, he'd be having a good look around Dave's bedroom. Instead his hand is palming Dave's cock through his jeans, and Dave's hips are bucking towards him. Dave's breath is hot and damp against his ear, where Dave is now nibbling a trail from earlobe to lips and back again, voice moaning ' _so fucking hot_ ' over and over.

Kurt reaches for one of Dave's hands and places it on his still clothed and covered erection, a low heartfelt ' _please_ ' whispered brokenly as Dave starts applying firm consistent pressure. And then Dave's fingers are lowering the zip and undoing the top button. Kurt helps then by arching his hips off the bed and tugging his pants and underwear down.

He's rewarded by Dave's hand wrapped around his cock instantly and Kurt groans at the sensation. Large, slightly rough and cool feeling against the heat of his sensitive skin. Dave's hand moves assuredly and Kurt can't help but thrust to meet Dave's hand.

"Fuck  _yes_ …"

The angle is awkward, but Dave has had practice, and Kurt is trying to not come instantly. It's not a good look. Their lips are battling again, and when he can Kurt drags his lower lip over Dave's cheek in appreciation of the coarse hair there. His body is rushing towards its orgasm, and a small part of him wants to draw the whole experience out because it might be the last form of intimacy he has in a while, thanks to Alex, and suddenly he's coming, and crying and he's crying because he's crying.  _Fuck, I am completely unhinged!_

For a very brief second Dave thinks that Kurt is laughing, but then realises he is crying. Dave does what he always does when faced with this sort of pain, he holds Kurt to him, cradling Kurt's body to his as Kurt cries, large sobs wracking his body. Dave rocks his body ever so slightly, hoping that the movement is soothing. He assumes it is, because after a few moments the cries quieten and lessen, and Kurt's body becomes a dead weight in his arms, asleep.

* * *

Dave wakes the next morning to an empty bed. He doesn't need to go looking to know that his apartment is lacking one Mr. Kurt Hummel. He also doesn't know what the hell to make of the previous evening, but decides that he can think about it later.

Later he will find a note on his kitchen bench:

_Dave,_

_Thanks for last night. For everything._

_I hope your foot is okay._

_Keep in touch. You have my number._

_Kurt._

It doesn't help him decide what to think.

TBC.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**SEPTEMBER 2025**

 

Dave knows he's in a bit of a funk. He's been in one for the last couple of weeks now, and he doesn't need Karen eyeing him across their office to hammer the point home. He's trying to pretend everything is normal. And it is, really. He doesn't need to pretend  _that_  much. His day-to-day life hasn't changed.

His work can be both mentally and emotionally exhausting, and he's learnt the hard way that maintaining a high level of physical activity is necessary in dealing with it, particularly on the darker days when he despises the human race as a species. He swims most mornings and has football training twice a week plus a game in the weekend when it's in season. He has a black belt (second dan) in karate, which he practises a minimum of twice a week, usually three. He isn't worried about what he eats, because the amount of physical activity he does means he feels almost constantly hungry. He passes his annual physical at work with flying colours, despite the fact that his specialised roll and skills mean that he's not often out on the beat, if ever.

He would be the first to admit that he leads a full life. He likes to be busy, and he likes to be moving. He teaches the occasional self-defence class, and also takes over the junior karate classes when he's feeling particularly energetic. Or in need of being cheered up. He sees his sister Jenny and her kids every weekend, and if he occasionally misses having a boyfriend, well, that sometimes aching feeling usually passes quickly enough. He doesn't need someone else to make him happy.

However having Kurt in his bed has made that ache to have someone to share his life with an ever constant presence in his head and heart. He doesn't think it is Kurt specific, and he knows logically that Kurt isn't viable boyfriend material. He lives in LA for starters, and while they had no trouble talking to each other, Dave doesn't recall them having much in common. No, he doesn't need anyone to make himself happy, but it would be nice to have someone to share his happiness with. To magnify it.

He misses Greg, his easy smile, camera always in hand, quirky sense of humour and odd habits and his sheer adoration of Dave's equally odd habits. Greg forced Dave to always put his own happiness first. Made him be a little bit selfish. He didn't want, and couldn't be, responsible for Dave's happiness, and he didn't expect Dave to be responsible for his. Which is why Greg's home base became London almost seven months ago. Dave couldn't hold him back, but nor could he go with him, despite being asked. Doesn't stop him missing him. Or what they had.

When he thinks about it, (and he's been thinking about it a lot), he doesn't  _think_ thatthe ache in his heart is Kurt specific, but he doesn't  _know._ And that's what is bugging him the most. He'd been fairly hooked on Kurt in high school in an almost unhealthy way, and he'd dealt with that, with some professional help. But now he's second guessing himself, wondering whether these are new emotions, or old ones simply resurfacing. But it seems a moot point either way. Kurt isn't suddenly going to up and move to Chicago, and Dave isn't moving to LA.

He can feel Karen's eyes on him still so he grabs one of the multi-coloured foam balls he keeps in his second draw down and throws it at her, followed by another and then another. None of them have enough weight for it to get further than halfway to her desk and she raises a reprimanding finger and shakes it at him, trying to keep a serious expression on her face.

"I know…I'm thinking about it."

"Oh. Okay. Well, I'm always here you know. Even when you don't want me to be," she replies, head tilted to one side as she regards him, looking slightly relieved that he's at least admitted to something being up, even if he doesn't know what  _exactly_. Or if it's even one thing.

"I know you are, and thanks for caring, but I can't talk about it when I don't really know what it is exactly I need to talk about…"

"Well when you do, give me a shout."

Dave nods, and wonders how she'd react if he just told her that he'd given Kurt a hand job and then he'd fallen apart in Dave's arms. He's still a bit baffled by it, and he doesn't think that Karen would be able to offer a useful point of view. Then again, she generally always surprises him. Actually, she takes an almost unhealthy interest in his sex life. He remembers her comment about Kurt when they'd arrived at dinner ' _Oh look Dave, a nice piece of candy for you to eye-fuck._ '

He blushes at the memory and ducks his head, chewing on a lip out of embarrassment. He looks up quickly and Karen is watching him avidly, knowing grin on her face. She knows his tells.  _Fuck_.

"It has to do with  _seeeex_ …" Karen says in that singsong voice she uses, despite it making her sound like an annoying younger sister. Dave pokes his tongue out in an equally juvenile gesture and lobs more balls at her across the office, with more force this time and some of them land with soft bounces on her desk.

"Tell me tell me tell me," Karen demands, and Dave shakes his head.

"I'll start telling you all about my sex life. What me and Mark get up to when we have the time, energy and opportunity… this is why I have to live vicariously through you, you realise? So? Who is he? Was it  _good_?"

She's almost manic in her interest and it freaks Dave out a little bit. His phone rings then and he pounces on it gratefully, making a shushing gesture with his hand towards Karen and she gives him the finger back. Dave swivels his chair around so he can't see her.

"Hello?"

"Hey man, you busy?" Mike asks over the phone, and Dave grins.

"I can talk," he replies, ambiguous enough that Karen won't be able to tell if it's a work or personal call. If she knows it's personal she won't hold back on retaliating with Dave's arsenal of balls that she has now stockpiled on her desk, patiently waiting for a chance.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come round to Mercedes' place for dinner on Saturday. It's just a cookout, she's inviting a few of her friends, I'm inviting you, Santana and Kate, Adrian and Anna and their kids. You keen?"

"I think that sounds doable… what time were you thinking?"

"Is someone listening?" Mike asks, finally cluing into the formal tone of Dave's voice.

"Yes, I think that sounds promising."

Mike laughs.

"Okay. I'll e-mail you the time and her address. Will I see you at training tonight?"

"Yes. I'll see you then," Dave says, turning his chair back to face Karen, who actually looks like she's doing some work, which is suspicious on a whole other level. They have their own little world in here out of necessity, considering some of the things they have to deal with, but they also work damned hard to ensure that they don't drown in paper work or ever feel overwhelmed by the sheer nature of their work.

Dave decides to take a leaf out of Karen's book and get down to some work, even if it is simply processing some paperwork that is due in later that week. He's working intently when he's suddenly bombarded by a dozen foam balls.

* * *

When Dave arrives at the tidy looking two-storey house out in the suburbs he feels unaccountably nervous. He can't pinpoint why exactly, except the fact that Mercedes is Kurt's best friend and therefore  _may_  know where Kurt spent his Friday evening four weeks ago.  _After_  dinner that is. He knocks at the front door and hears a dog bark. He's bought his potato cheese bake at Mike's request, along with a few pieces of steak for the grill, some beer and some strawberries and cream.

When the door opens and Mercedes greets him with a wide smile he feels the tension in his shoulders instantly dissipate. Despite what she might or might not know, she doesn't seem to hold it against him as she gratefully takes his food, admitting she's just burnt the roast potatoes. She gives him a quick tour of downstairs, pointing out the bathroom, kitchen and little mini-bar she has set up on the sideboard away from little hands.

She takes his food and disappears into the kitchen, leaving Dave in her living room where Dave spies an extensive wine selection in a beautiful display cabinet. He recognises the some of the winery logos on the bottle foils. There are a variety of vineyards all around the world, and from the limited view he has without taking the bottles out there are some good labels.

"You know your wine Mercedes," Dave comments when she returns to the room, and is a bit taken aback when she cracks up laughing.

"I wish. Kurt bought me all those. He loves wine."

Dave is surprised, trying to think back to his dinner conversation with Kurt. Kurt hadn't volunteered much information. In fact, he'd seemed pretty intent on finding out as much as possible about Dave, now that he thinks about it. Dave is impressed. Normally he'd consider himself fairly perceptive, but Kurt had somehow managed to bypass that and draw out as much information from Dave without giving up much of his own.

"I didn't know that. He didn't mention it while we were talking," Dave says to Mercedes and she looks a bit perplexed.

"Really? That's weird…he –"

"Hey man…" Mike greets, effectively cutting Mercedes off, and hands Dave an open beer, and Dave takes it gratefully, smiling at Mercedes in a slight apology at Mike's behaviour, despite the fact Mike should be doing it himself. Mike beckons for him to follow, and Dave finds himself in a good-sized backyard, where a chocolate Labrador is sitting in a kennel, looking out pitifully and whining occasionally.

"That's Theo," Mike says, indicating the dog. Dave nods as he watches Mike set up the grill. He wonders if Mercedes minds the fact that Mike has taken over the cooking, or whether that was her intention all along. Dave knows he's early, figuring he'd be a possible common link between both sets of friends, although he wouldn't consider himself a friend of Mercedes', he does have a handy conversation starter of ' _I went to high school with Mercedes. How do you know her?_ '

They're eating early because of the kids, and Dave offers his help in the kitchen briefly before being waved off by Mercedes and another woman who has arrived, who Mercedes introduces as Paula. Dave knows he won't forget the name, what with it being so close to his father's name, and he heads back out to the garden to keep Mike company.

* * *

In the kitchen Mercedes is running over the guests to Paula. It is Mike's turn to be introduced to her friends, and she thinks that seeing as she had Kurt, Dave and Santana already known to her when she met his friends, he should have the same sort of safety blanket effect. It made her a lot less nervous at least, although Mike looks anything but nervous. She has fewer friends in Chicago, having only lived there for three years, and she likes the idea of reconnecting with Santana. And Dave seems decent enough now. And he's Mike's best friend. She's unknowingly humming  _'It's a small world_ ' under her breath until Paula bitches her out for getting that terrible song caught in her head.

She doesn't have any real close friends in Chicago. She has Paula, a fellow music therapist she shares clinic hours with; Phoebe, a woman who befriended her at church and is a school teacher (and also knows Mike), and Mara, a second cousin she'd looked up when she'd just arrived just so she'd had someone else to talk to. Fortunately her younger cousin had thought it was ' _rockin'_  that she'd moved to Chicago, and had taken Mercedes out and taught her all the best places to eat, shop, get your hair cut. Mercedes tries to ignore the fact that Mara makes her feel ancient, despite the fact that there are only six years separating them.

There is only one person besides family, whose opinion Mercedes really cares about, and that is Kurt, and Mike has already met Kurt. And Kurt seems to like him, and Mike seems to like Kurt. That fact alone puts so many points in Mike's favour, but Mercedes isn't about to point this out to him, although she suspects he already knows. He's asked occasionally how Kurt is, and she likes that he shows an interest in her best friend, even if he is on the other side of the country.

* * *

When Adrian and Anna arrive with their four children Dave is engulfed by calls of ' _Dabey!_ ' and Mercedes watches in awe, her mind struggling to merge the boy she knew in high school and the man being climbed over by enthusiastic toddlers as the same person, despite the time she has spent with Dave in the last month.

Dave hasn't seen Adrian's kids for about six weeks, but had regularly been seeing them before that almost every fortnight. He's had plenty of experience with Kadin and Kruze, his two nephews in Chicago, so he offers to help out. He loves kids. There are so many things about kids that he likes, but one of his main reasons is that it allows him to be a big kid himself.

"He's a gentle giant really," Mike states, sidling up beside Mercedes as she watches in amusement as Dave crawls around with a child on his back, the others following like a conga line.

"It would appear so… it's just a little odd, remembering what he used to be like in high school."

"You mean the bullying?" Mike asks, and Mercedes' eyebrows shoot up. "Yeah, he told me about that. It's kind of why he does what he does now, in a round about way. I know it's one of his biggest regrets, except I tell him we all make stupid dumb mistakes when we're kids. I think it was good for him and Kurt to meet up again after all this time you know, lay some things at rest."

"I thought they did in high school. They seemed to anyway."

"Maybe they did, but Dave still seems to carry it around with him. He's been a bit freer since he saw Kurt, a bit more confident. It's good."

"When did he tell you about Kurt?"

"When we were back in college. We got drunk and admitted our biggest fears. And we helped each other get over them."

"What was your biggest fear?" Mercedes asks and is surprised when Mike looks away, embarrassed. "You don't have to tell me," she quickly adds, picking up on his discomfit.

"I…it's kind of embarrassing, and… I don't know, it's not a part of me now. But, okay… Dave didn't want to lie anymore, and I didn't want to be fat. Dave kind of became like my personal trainer, and I attended PFLAG meetings with him. We feed off each other, which was another reason I choose to move to Chicago. I was offered two jobs, one here, and one in Seattle. Dave was here, as well as Tom, so it was a pretty easy choice."

"Oh," Mercedes replies, and she's not sure what to think.

She'd always struggled with her own self-image, until she embraced her curves and decided that as long as she was healthy, then she'd love every inch of herself. And Mike has shown his appreciation of her body, so she has no concerns  _there._ But she's not used to hearing guys admit they have, or had, issues about their own bodies. Except Kurt, and he's her best friend, so is a different category of guy.

And then it hits her. Mike has admitted this to her, not caring that she knows, or rather, trusting her enough to know that she won't hurt him with this new knowledge. She feels warmth spread through her like she's lying in the sun and she wraps her arms around Mike's waist.

"I love you Mr. Michael McKenzie," she says, voice quiet. It's the first time she has said the words out loud to him, and his responding grin splits his face.

"And I love you Mercedes Jones," he replies, just before a bread roll hits him in the side of the head.

* * *

Kurt is exhausted. He's just spent the weekend in Lima, visiting Finn, Melanie, Ryan and their newest addition, a wrinkled red little bundle they've called Imogen. It was nice seeing his Dad and Carol again, but sleeping in a guest room in what used to be his home feels a bit odd.

He's back in LA, and his apartment feels quiet and empty after the constant noise and movement he's just come from. He takes a deep calming breath and mentally starts making list in preparation for work the following week. His mind feels a bit scattered, some of it still in Lima, and some of it in Chicago, mainly due to an unexpected run in with Paul Karofsky and a woman who Kurt can only assume was Dave's mother.

It had been seven levels of awkward, Paul asking him how he was and what he was up to now, and Kurt replying with polite, but reserved half-answers. He'd had Ryan with him, trying to give Melanie a break, and had had to field questions asking if Ryan was  _his_. Kurt had been grateful to get out of the store without seeming like a rude idiot, or blurting out something wholly inappropriate.

Now he's back in LA, his thoughts of Lima and Chicago fading as he recalls what he is returning to. There is a hive of gossip and speculation among Kurt's circle of friends. Everyone knows Alex was kicked out for cheating on him and moved in with Marcus. And now Cassie has moved out of their family home and in with her sister, taking Jamie with her. Kurt knows that she caught them having sex, because she'd turned up on his doorstep, crying, demanding to know whether he'd known.

Kurt had stood there, dumb struck, not knowing how to respond, before folding her into a hug and joining her in her tears. They'd fetched Jamie from the car, and she'd stayed the night, ranting at Kurt about men in general, and Kurt adding the occasional comment. She'd phoned her sister, and when current A-lister Renee Walker showed up at his door he'd done a bit of a double take and then said  _'Renee Walker is your sister?_ ' in an utterly shocked tone. The pair of women had nodded, Renee had taken Jamie from Kurt, and added  _'And Reese Walker is our brother_.' Kurt didn't know who Reese Walker was, so had ignored the comment.

His mind comes back to the present, and he feels tired all over again. He's spent a fair bit of time with Cassie, their friendship becoming firmer every time they speak, their shared animosity of their ex-partners acting like a cohesive glue. Kurt would like to think he'll never see Alex again, but in LA, and in their circle of friends, it's just not going to happen. Cassie doesn't have a choice, she's too big of a person to deny Jamie a parent, and Kurt admires her for that.

Doesn't mean he has to like Marcus. Marcus with his hang-dog expression like his world has fallen apart. Kurt has no sympathy for him at all. Or Alex. They've made their decisions and they can stand by them. Made beds and all that. And even though Kurt doesn't condone violence, he does occasionally want to take a swing at Marcus, particularly when he's pleading with Cassie over reconciling, and how it'll never happen again.

Actions speak louder than words to Kurt, and as long as Alex and Marcus are living together, then Cassie won't be listening to anything he has to say. At least, that's what Kurt's opinion of the matter is. Cassie takes a slightly more proactive approach and has informed Marcus that she's going to suck him dry, and not in a good way.

He's been spending quite a bit of time with Cassie and her sister, at her house in Beverly Hills. He finds spending time with Cassie preferable to other friends right now, because many of them are also seeing Alex socially as well, despite their apparent disgust-slash-horror at his behaviour. And sometimes Kurt feels a bit like a sideshow attraction, his so-called friends' curiosity driving them to make plans with him just so they can see how well he is coping. Or not. And then he feels guilty for thinking of his friends that way, and so he spends time with Cassie, because when she walks in on him slicing up carrots with a viciousness not seen outside horror movies, she grabs a knife and a carrot and joins in.

And he's not sure what to think about what happened with Dave. His emotions were in such an upheaval that he can't even remember the incident without turning beet red from embarrassment. He'd cried in the man's arms and then fallen asleep. Not his sanest or proudest moment, and if he'd thought to leave Dave reeling from his sexual prowess… well, he's failed miserably he's sure.

He'd told Finn about seeing Dave (the first dinner, not the second), as well as mentioning Santana. It had set Finn off on a whole high school reminiscent path that Kurt had stopped listening to about two minutes in. Apart from glee club, Kurt doesn't have the fondest memories of high school, but Finn seems to wear rose-tinted glasses when looking at everything, and Kurt supposes that's part of his charm.

When he'd got the e-mail from Rachel and Blaine talking about a mini-reunion in New York and what a great idea it was he'd been a bit puzzled, but it was something Finn had suggested and he'd agreed to, apparently while his brain was elsewhere while Finn was monologing about how he misses high school. And now Kurt has booked tickets to New York to catch up with friends from high school in October. Finn is going to try and track down some of the others. Between the two of them and Mercedes they have contact details for everyone.

They didn't all make it to their ten-year reunion, Kurt included, so in some cases it has literally been a decade since he's seen some of these people. And now they're going out to a lunch and then dinner and then a show, which Rachel has lined up. Kurt is looking forward to it with mixed feelings, which are fairly par for the course these days, it gives him a chance to get out of LA, which he needs right now. He just wishes he didn't have to go all the way to New York to get out of LA. And he hopes that this little reunion of the glee club involves less drama than last time they were in New York.

* * *

Dave waits for the phone to be picked up by his Dad. Usually he relies on e-mail, it's more concise, particularly considering the way his father can talk, but it's his Dad's birthday, so a phone call is a necessary evil.

"Hello?"

"Hi Dad, happy birthday."

"Hello David! How are you?"

"I'm good thanks Dad. How has your day been?"

"Good. Usual you know. Work. Your mother and I went out to dinner to a new little bistro that has opened up. On Elida. Beautiful little place, nice and small, great food."

Dave listens as his father recounts the meal in minute detail, describing both the entrees, then the mains. Dave listens with half an ear as he prepares his own evening meal. It's late, but he needs to eat something, especially with his father describing food like a TV chef. He puts the phone on speaker and moves around his kitchen, opening a beer and deciding to make a quick prawn curry stirfry. He replies to his father with occasional  _hmm_ s and  _oh really_ s and  _that sounds great_ s.

"You know who we saw while we were there? Burt and Carol Hummel. Do you remember Kurt Hummel?" Paul asks, and Dave almost chokes on his drink, which of course he's just taken a sip of.

"Yeah Dad, of course I remember him. Why?"

"Oh, well I took my car into Burt's – you remember Burt Hummel?"

Dave feels like screaming  _of course I fucking remember!_  but knows that'll get him nowhere with his father. He's going to tell a story, and it'll most likely be long and winding, have no real point and usually bore Dave to tears. However, if the subject is Kurt then he isn't going to have to feign interest.

"Yes Dad. I remember Mr Hummel," Dave replies, and he's pretty sure Burt Hummel will always be a slightly scary figure in his mind, despite the number of years that have past.

"Well, my car has been making this strange ticking sound, a bit intermittent you know, not constant, because I thought maybe something was stuck in the tyre well."

Dave starts some deep breathing exercises and continues with his  _ah huh_ s and  _hmm_ s at the appropriate pauses in conversation. His Dad will get there eventually, and it's the guy's' birthday, so Dave will practise patience. His Dad is seventy-three today, and while that number seems a bit scary, it freaks Dave out when he knows he's almost halfway to that number himself.

"Well, your mother and I were shopping, and we bumped into Kurt. He's a costume designer now. Burt told me tonight. My car runs like a dream since he fixed it, by the way. Kurt had a little boy with him, his nephew apparently. Same age as Kruze. He was in town visiting his family. You should visit more you know, we'd love to see you."

And there it is, the kicker, the actually point to his father's rambling conversation. He wants Dave to come and visit. He won't come out and directly ask Dave to visit, but he's not beyond guilting him into feeling bad that he hasn't done his duty and visited his parents. He's a bit disappointed that his father had no news on Kurt other than he'd been in Lima recently, which was no surprise.

"I'll be there for Thanksgiving. I've taken the week off. And I'll be there at Christmas as well this year. You can always come and visit me you know. Chicago isn't that far away, and Jenny is here as well," Dave points out.

"Okay, I think that might be a good idea. Your mom needs a break away anyway. How does the first weekend in October sound?"

Dave does a slight double take, his Dad is not usually one for such decisive and sudden decisions. He knows his weekends in October are all free at the moment, not including usual social and sporting events. Nothing major.

"That sounds great Dad. Would be nice to see you," Dave states, and he's telling the truth. He has no preference over where he sees his parents, however not having to leave the comfort of his own king size bed is always a plus. He winds the conversation to a close with the excuse that he needs to eat dinner, and ends the call with a smile on his face.

* * *

When Dave comes home from work the next day Santana is leaning against the wall outside the door to his apartment block, thumbing through something on her phone. Dave slows as he approaches her.

"Are you waiting for me, or are you hoping to pick up business?" Dave asks, grinning as he cocks his head to one side as he regards her in her work attire. She glares at him, which only prompts him to grin wider.

"What are you doing the second weekend of October?"

"Why?" Dave replies, instantly wary, and wondering how his weekends in October are suddenly becoming hot property.

"I have this thing I have to go to in New York. Kate can't make it because she's rostered on that weekend, and apparently I have to go to this stupid meet and greet. I'll pay your airfares and accommodation. Don't make me blackmail you into this."

"So what, are we playing it straight or something?"

"Only if it's amusing to do so. Otherwise no. You free?"

"I…yeah, I am. Can you tell me more about why I have to come? I don't want to look like an idiot."

"That is inevitable and unavoidable. I just want to have someone there I actually find… tolerable," Santana states, feigning a nonchalance that Dave knows is fake, and that she likes him really. He lets out a long sigh.

"Sure thing. Let me know what I need to bring clothes wise, and let me know flight details. You can't keep that blackmail threat hanging over me forever you know."

"Well, it works doesn't it?"

"It'd work if you just asked as well."

"So you say. I find it's better not to risk it. Are you going to invite me up for a drink?"

"Uh, you want to come up for a drink?" Dave asks, rolling his eyes.

"No thanks, I have to go. Kate's expecting me for dinner. See you later!"

"Bitch!" Dave calls after her as she stalks away, and as a few heads turn his way he's really glad he's not in uniform.

TBC…

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am being deliberately vague about Dave's job in the police force for a reason. Feel free to guess what his job is, or why I'm being vague. Or just wait patiently.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to get some actual dates going in this, not actually mentioned, but to get things correct, and found that there is a public holiday which fitted in with my imaginary timeline perfectly. Heaps of Dave/Kurt interaction here to make up for the lack in the previous chapter.
> 
> If you're a fan of Mercedes and Kurt's friendship in this, then I posted a short one-shot of some of their history together. It's called 'Cherry Blossom' and is part two of this series (although chronologically comes before it).

**OCTOBER 2025 - part one  
**

Dave had thought he was going to be bored for the majority of this trip. Santana had been very cagey and elusive every time he'd asked a question, and he'd started to feel quietly apprehensive regarding her entire attitude toward the weekend. As he sits beside her in first class as their plane descends he knows she's hiding something from him, but he can't pinpoint what. When he sees Mercedes and Mike at La Guardia airport in New York late on a Friday night his stomach clenches and his eyes dart nervously around the baggage claim, worst fears confirmed.

His inklings of ideas that have been rattling around in his head are now starting to take shape. He knows that Rachel Berry lives in New York, and Blaine Anderson (who he always pretended to never know the name of back in high school), so he's fairly certain he's walking into either an ambush, or a reunion. And quite frankly, a glee club reunion and ambush are fairly synonymous with each other right now.

He fights the childish urge to dig his heels in and refuse to leave the airport, but decides (with a surprising amount of forethought), that he can dig his heels in from the comfort of his hotel room, where Santana is footing the bill and he will have food on call. She's splurged, and he now knows why. She's softening the blow for when he realises he's going to be spending the weekend with a bunch of people who pretty much hated him in high school. He wonders when she  _thinks_  he's going to click. He's not stupid by any stretch of the imagination.

Of course, Dave has Santana and Mike, and, he supposes, Mercedes on his side now, who will no doubt vouch for his changed character.  _And Kurt_. He stumbles a bit as he realises that Kurt might be here as well. He's not sure why he didn't immediately think of him, but he supposes he was too busy trying to figure out what the hell Santana was up to.

He's not sure if he's ready to see Kurt again. It's been almost two months since he last saw him, but Dave can't get him out of his head. His father on the phone talking about him, Mercedes' casual mentions of him or talking to him on the phone when they are all hanging out. It feels like he's fucking everywhere, and Dave has spent a few nights in his guest room just to ensure a full nights sleep.

He comes back to the present, and he's not surprised when he realises he's carrying not only his own luggage, but Santana's as well. He'd have offered anyway, his father has ingrained in him how to be a gentleman, and even if he's gay and doesn't have much call to use it, it continually pops to the forefront, even with Santana. He gives a start when he hears Mercedes say his name before realising she's talking about him, not to him, and apparently she's berating Santana for using him to carry her luggage.

"What else am I going to use him for? It's not like we want to bump uglies," Santana replies and Dave pulls a face, making Mercedes laugh.

They manage to squeeze in to one taxi to their hotel, and Dave has given Santana an ' _I'm not impressed'_ look to indicate he's on to her, and she'd just smiled back benignly looking incredibly self-satisfied. He's not going to lower himself and ask who exactly she's meeting up with. His best friend is here, so the weekend is still salvageable. And he'll use his hotel room as a bolt hole. And if that doesn't work, well, New York is a big city; he can lose Santana, and turn off his phone to ensure she can't find him until he wants her to.

Santana has booked adjoining rooms, which makes Dave's first point of business ensuring it is locked and she can't waltz in. Last time he fell asleep around her was five years ago and he lost his eyebrows, and he's not risking that again. Karen had tried drawing eyebrows on him, which had made him look like a circus clown, and he had endured ribbing from the work guys for weeks until they had grown back.

When Mike knocks at his door and informs him that they're going down to the bar for drinks Dave sighs and agrees. He's not sure what's going to happen this weekend, but he's grateful that Mike is here. He'd always noticed at school that things always seemed to get crazy when the glee club was involved, and his money is on this weekend being no different.

* * *

Dave doesn't know what Santana is playing at, but she's made herself comfortable in his lap, drink in hand, and she's stroking his forearm in an absent minded way. Dave shoots Mike a perplexed look and catches Mercedes trying not to laugh and fall off her bar stool.

"What are you playing at?" Dave asks, voice low, trying to figure out where this might be heading. He  _knows_  she's not hitting on him.

"Nothing. Just playing in general really…"

"Great," Dave mutters, and then groans quietly as Finn Hudson and Puckerman walk into the bar, spot them, and head their way.

He does a double take seeing them again, weird visions of their high school selves overlaying the men in front of him, before fading away and just leaving two ordinary looking guys. There are general greetings and introductions all round, raised eyebrows when they recognise Dave, and drink orders placed.

"Huh. So you guys got back together then?" Finn asks, and Dave catches Mercedes' eyes as she snorts in laughter. Mike is looking equally amused, but is hiding it far better.

"Yes, we're inseparable," Santana murmurs, resuming her arm stroking and Dave rolls his eyes. Puckerman is eyeing the two of them speculatively.

"Huh. I never would have picked it. I thought you were a lesbian," Finn states, obviously talking to Santana and ignoring Dave. Which is fine with him, he's starting to be amused too. Puckerman catches his eye and Dave smiles at him politely.

"Oh, I was. But I really can't resist a nice piece of man-meat like Dave here," Santana purrs and Dave yelps as she grabs his knee in a charley-horse. Mercedes is laughing silently, hand clamped over her mouth, but eyes streaming with amusement. Mike's head is bowed, but his shoulders are shaking. Dave eyes the bowl of peanuts and wonders if he'd get thrown out of the bar if he threw them at the pair.

"Oh. Um. That's… more than I ever wanted to know," Finn says, and he's bright red in embarrassment.

"Congratulations on your new baby," Dave says, trying to be nice, and not only save Finn some embarrassment, but steer the conversation away from Santana's apparent appreciation of his man-meat. God, it's a wonder he hadn't sprayed everyone with his drink when she said that, he'd only just stopped a dribble when she grabbed his knee. He's still trying to figure out what she's up to.

"Oh, thanks. Yeah, she's pretty cute. Melanie's parents are visiting this weekend, so she let me come," Finn is explaining, despite not being asked. "Wait, how did you know about her?"

"My Dad mentioned seeing you with them," Dave says, and he's not lying. His father e-mails him at least twice a week, and if he's seen any of the people Dave went to school with, they get an honourable mention. Dave normally scans over those parts quickly, but has to admit that since August he's taken a bit more interest in Finn because of his familial link to Kurt. And that makes him feel just a tad pathetic.

Mercedes is asking how their drive was, Finn and Puckerman apparently sharing the driving from Lima. Dave is glad that Santana choose to fly, because he couldn't stand being cooped up in a car that long.

When a guy in a wheelchair rolls himself into the bar Dave knows he's now at a fucking glee club reunion. At least with Hudson and Puckerman he could just talk football if necessary, despite the fact that they probably don't play anymore, but now that Double-A is here… and Dave has no idea what the guy's name is, just that he has the same first and last initial as Azimio, which had earned him the secret nickname of Double-A. He can't remember all of the glee club, well, not their names anyway, but is feeling fairly sure he'll know most of them pretty well by the end of the weekend.

And Dave is ashamed to admit it, but if the guy had walked into the bar, he wouldn't have recognised him. It is the wheelchair which is the defining feature, and Dave knows how labels like that just suck arse, so he's determined to not only learn the guy's name, but get to know the guy properly. He listens carefully as Mercedes introduces him to Mike and Dave's brain fizzes with the reminder ' _Artie Abrams'._

"So, Puckerman, I hear you're a school teacher now…" Dave starts, hoping he's coming across as polite. He wants to be polite, and things are going well so far.

"Seriously dude, call me Noah. I get enough of fucking Puckerman at work. Mr Puckerman! Mr Puckerman!" His voice goes all high falsetto when he says his own name and Dave grins.

"Done. If you can call me Dave. So, how many of you glee clubbers are turning up?" Dave asks, knowing that asking Puckerman won't raise eyebrows, and he wants to know if he should prepare himself for seeing Kurt again.

"Uh, I'm not really sure. Hey Artie! Where's your old lady?"

"She has to work this weekend," Artie replies and then looks at Dave, his gaze narrowing. "Karofsky?"

"Guilty as charged," Dave replies, grinning, but feeling a bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny he is now receiving.

"He's here with me…" Santana says, hand straying to Dave's leg again, but he grabs it quickly and unceremoniously stands, forcing her off his lap and making her stand as well. Artie's eyebrows have disappeared behind his fringe and he's looking confused. Dave recognises the look and jumps on it. Someone sane!

"I'm here with her, but not like that! She's with Kate," Dave says, trying to fob Santana's hands off from grabbing his arm.

"I knew it!" Puckerman exclaims, doing a little finger waving thing that just looks odd on him.

"Thirty-seven minutes," Mike states, looking up from his watch.

"Damn it!" Santana spits, obviously annoyed. Mercedes looks pleased and is rubbing her hands together.

"Did you guys just bet on me?" Dave asks, eyes narrowing, and Mercedes looks embarrassed while Santana looks unapologetic.

"Of course. If you'd held out another three minutes and I'd be twenty dollars richer…"

Dave let out a long sigh and tries to remind himself why he's friends with her when she's still this annoying after all these years. However obviously Santana was under the impression he'd go along with her version of crazy for a little while longer.

"How did you know she was lying?" Dave asks, turning to Puckerman.

"I'm a high school teacher. I'm used to spotting bull shit."

* * *

On Saturday morning Dave wakes feeling very well rested. Despite his initial misgivings he'd enjoyed last night, so isn't too worried about what today holds. No one has mentioned anyone else turning up, so Dave has relaxed slightly. Today they're hanging out in Central Park for at least part of the afternoon, because tossing a football around has apparently gone to the top of the list of thing's Finn wants to do while in New York.

He showers and dresses at a leisurely pace. They're meeting for a late breakfast at some eatery that Rachel Berry has insisted they have to try, and she's meeting them there. She was in a show last night, so had been unable to join them, but Santana and Mercedes have both informed Dave he's not to feel bad if he occasionally feels like hitting her upside the head. Apparently she invokes that response in a lot of people.

He meets up with Mike and Mercedes in the lobby and they wait together for Santana. Artie, Finn and Puckerman are staying in a cheaper hotel a block over, so they're all finding their own way. Santana eventually turns up and Dave is surprised. He doesn't see her in jeans very often, but he can admit she looks good. And he compliments her. She eyes him suspiciously before tucking her handbag under her arm and demanding they get the show on the road.

* * *

Breakfast turns out to be even more entertaining than drinks the previous evening. Dave had never realised quite how crazy or highly strung some of these people are. Rachel Berry has arrived in a flurry of flowing scarves that make her look a bit ragged and she'd looked at Dave with narrowed eyes before obviously deciding to simply ignore him.

Dave decides to just be amused by the behaviour, although he does feel a bit miffed. He'd kept a low profile in senior year, cut out the bullying, made a conscious effort to either ignore Kurt, or talk to him politely. He'd made it clear to the football and hockey teams that he was keeping an eye on them regarding the bullying,  _all_  of the bullying, not just that directed at glee club members. It hadn't stopped all of the verbal taunts, but the physical attacks had lessened at least.

But it would seem that for Rachel Berry at least, his last year of high school and the preceding thirteen years can't have been allowed to change him. He's obviously still the big-bad-bully in her eyes, and it's unforgivable that he's even here. He wonders if Santana bringing him was a ploy to piss Rachel off, because if it was, it seems to be working. He lays on the charm, offering to take Mercedes' and Santana's jackets and pulling chairs out for them. He shoots Mercedes a wink and a smirk, and she grins back at him, obviously just as amused.

They're at a diner, and Rachel is telling everyone how good the crepes are when a waiter comes over to take their orders. His eyes are flicking over each guy at the table and Dave barely holds back a snort at how obvious he's being. Their eyes meet briefly and there is a flare of interest in the other, much younger, man's eyes. He's cute, Dave concedes, but he's also about ten years too young for him. At least.

He introduces himself as Teddy, takes their orders, and then throws a grin and a wink at Dave. Dave smiles back good naturedly, knowing it's not going to go anywhere. The exchange hasn't gone unnoticed. Mike and Mercedes are both looking amused, most of the other guys seem oblivious, but Rachel is sitting there, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. Dave really wants to be snarky and ask her if she has a problem, but he closes his mouth firmly.

"You do realise that young man is gay don't you?" her voice demands, quiet in deference to the busy morning crowd. Dave shrugs in response, not sure where she could possibly be going with this. "I'm watching you David Karofsky. You do or say anything to that poor boy and I will report you to the police for hate crimes!"

" _What?_ " Dave replies, in utter disbelief.

"Oh for fucks sake Berry, stop talking shit about stuff you know nothing about. Not only is Davey here a police officer, but he's gay to boot. Dresses up in a tutu every year and dances down the street sprinkling rainbow coloured confetti," Santana interjects and Dave glares at her.

"It was one time, and it was only because I lost a bet," Dave mutters, and Mike is laughing loudly, and Mercedes is asking if he has pictures.

"Wait, you're gay?" Finn asks, voice loud enough that all the people sitting around them turn to look. Dave rolls his eyes, not that he cares anymore, but Finn obviously hasn't developed any tact. Rachel is looking a little like a goldfish, mouth opening and closing slowly.

"Uh, yeah," Dave replies, just suddenly realising that half the people at the table don't actually know he's gay. Well, he's all for coming out a second time. "I'm gay, and yes, I have dressed in a tutu and danced down a street, but it was part of a pride parade and I'd also had a bit to drink."

"But Santana was sitting on you last night," Finn says, as if that type of logic is infallible. Dave doesn't hold back his eye roll.

"Sorry to break this to you man, but Santana is a lesbian, and anyway, a woman sitting on me doesn't make me straight."

"But…How long have you been gay?" Finn asks, and the confusion on his face is both endearing and irritating.

"Seriously? Kurt is your brother and you're asking me that question?"

"You know what I mean!" Finn whines, and Dave realises he's actually asking when Dave came out. Huh.

"Um, I came out in College. Mike was the first person I told, outside of my parents," Dave states, and he's not including Kurt and Blaine, because not only does that open a whole other can of worms, but he didn't actually say it out loud to either of them.

"When did you tell your parents?" Rachel asks, and her voice is quiet and her eyes are now assessing him with a far more sympathetic tone.

"Uh, beginning of senior year," Dave answers, and he's a bit embarrassed by being the centre of attention, particularly in this group of people.

"So that's why you were such an arse to Kurt," Rachel surmises, and Dave nods his head in agreement. That's an oversimplification of it, but if it's a summation that people can get their heads around then he'll go with it. Puckerman and Finn are both nodding in agreement, as if the universe suddenly makes sense to them.

Mike has an eyebrow quirked, he knows it's not that simple, but Dave shrugs his shoulders. These people don't need to know more. The important people know, and maybe if Kurt is still speaking to him, Dave might go into more depth if he ever shows an interest, but Dave is quite happy to leave it in the past.

Their orders arrive, and true to Rachel's claims, they are indeed some of the best crepes Dave has ever eaten. At least in the USA. Talk turns to daily lives, reminiscence of high school, and plans for the weekend. Dave learns that Kurt is arriving tonight, which causes his stomach to do a little half-clench half-flip. He tries to remind himself why Kurt is off limits, the distance, the fact that he's not heard from him in two months, the fact he's still fresh out of a relationship. His logical mind is listening and nodding, all the other bits of his mind (including his libido) are sitting back, feet up on imaginary coffee tables with arms crossed, smirking and muttering about how well logic worked last time they saw each other.

At the end of the meal the waiter slips Dave a napkin, and a quick look confirms that there is a name and number written on it. Puckerman sees it and elbows him in the side, leering at him, eyebrows waggling and muttering  _'go get some'_. Dave shakes his head and leaves the napkin on the table.

* * *

Dave enjoys the afternoon in Central Park, and not only because he and Mike are running circles around Finn and Puckerman. Dave is secretly glad that he's been able to maintain his level of fitness since school. In fact he's pretty sure he's fitter now. Finn and Puck had been so sure that they'd win the two-versus-two football game, and then been forced to eat their words.

Mercedes had taken some of the sting out of the defeat by informing them that Dave and Mike train at least twice a week and have a game every weekend, so not only workout, but also still play on a regular basis. It makes Finn and Puckerman split them up, and after that they are fairly evenly matched.

It's an unseasonably warm day, especially after running around, so they hunt down a bored ice cream vendor, and then proceed to walk around. Dave has started calling Puckerman Noah occasionally, but still calls him Puckerman in his head. He on the other hand has had no trouble switching to calling Dave by his first name, and neither has Finn. Dave is pretty sure it's because Mike, Mercedes and Santana repeatedly call him Dave, whereas Puckerman is still getting called Puck at least half the time.

Dave has spent some time talking to Artie, trying to get to know him. He's an electronic engineer and designs thermistors. Dave barely understands what he's talking about, but he's obviously passionate about it, whatever it is. He shows him pictures of Brittany and Jasmine, clearly a proud father, and Dave responds by fishing out photos of his niece and nephews.

Rachel sidles up to him at one point when he's alone, laying a hand on his arm. Dave looks down at her, not saying anything.

"You've changed quite a lot from high school."

Dave feels like this is another oversimplification, but also a bit stupid. It's been  _years_.

"I started changing in high school. Only a few people actually took notice though."

"Kurt did, didn't he? He always said back then that you were trying to change. That I shouldn't be so harsh about you. Did he know you were gay?"

Dave nods, a bit taken aback by the fact that Kurt had obviously been standing up for him back in high school. The idea is odd, and doesn't fit easily in his mind, but it doesn't stop him liking it. Rachel pats his arm again, squeezing it slightly, before leaving to go and walk arm-in-arm with Mercedes.

* * *

Dave's not sure what the name of the restaurant is, but it's upscale, and he's glad Santana told him to pack a dinner jacket. He's still wearing jeans, but his best pair, and he's even put on a tie at Santana's express demand. He feels less like an overdressed fool when Mike comes out of his room in a full suit. They'd all had to go back to wherever they were staying and have a shower, despite the sudden cold rain shower which had suddenly appeared and drenched them all except Rachel, who had expertly pulled an umbrella from her bag mere seconds after the first drops of rain.

They're in a separate side room that Rachel has reserved for the ten of them. Drinks have arrived, but Dave decides to stick with water for now. Blaine arrives and Dave overhears Finn (in what Finn obviously assumes is a whisper) tell him that Dave is gay. Dave rolls his eyes, and then Blaine catches Dave's eye and the smile he's giving Dave is so… _proud._  Dave smiles tightly back but can't stop thinking that he's still an arrogant bastard. Dave knows he probably doesn't mean to be condescending, but that's how it comes across, so Dave just elects to try and avoid him as much as possible.

* * *

This weekend trip has coincided with Columbus Day, a holiday which the state of California has not recognised now for ten years, so Kurt has taken Monday off so that he can spend at least Sunday with everyone. He's flying in late as it is, missing the Saturday daytime activities and he's told Rachel he'll meet everyone at dinner. He's had a long week, after several other long weeks, and quite frankly getting on a plane to fly to the opposite coast was the last thing he wanted to do this afternoon, despite the fact he hasn't seen either Rachel or Blaine for over six months.

Sure, he's speaks to them when he has time (which isn't as often as any of them like), but he's starting to realise that nothing is a substitute for spending actual time with the people he loves. Even if he does want to duct tape their mouths shut sometimes. Or most of the time. His time in August with Mercedes has made him realise how much he misses her in particular, because she's an easy friend to be with. If he doesn't want to talk, she doesn't push him, unlike Rachel and Blaine, who sill both go at him hammer and tong until he breaks down and screams. Usually at them.

He tries to doze in the cab on the way to the hotel. He's got to go there first, check-in, drop his luggage, and then get to the restaurant. If he has enough time he really wants to shower, but judging the flow of traffic he's going to be hideously late. He can't do anything about it, so he simply sends Rachel a quick message and tried to make himself as comfortable as he can in the back of the cab.

* * *

Dave feels the change in atmosphere at the table instantly and he turns to look at what has caught everyone's attention. Kurt is standing at the head of the table and he looks…  _terrible_. He looks exhausted, skin far too pale, and there are dark grey circles around his eyes. Finn, Puckerman, Artie and Rachel are exchanging worried glances between himself and Kurt, as if expecting some major exclamation from either one of them. Dave smiles at him, eyebrows both quirking up in a form of greeting. Then chairs are being pushed back and Kurt is enveloped in a multitude of arms as Rachel, Blaine and Mercedes all jostle to hug him. Dave notes that Kurt just looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. Probably in a bed. Sleeping.

* * *

Kurt finally shrugs off the well intentioned hugs and then catches the nervous looks people are giving him, and then giving Dave. For a moment Kurt feels like his heart has stopped beating, he thinks that Dave has told them of their little hook-up two months ago. But the looks are actually quite nervous, like they aren't sure how he's going to react to Dave's presence. Kurt snorts internally.

"Oh honestly," he mutters, and indicates for Noah to move over a seat so he can sit beside Dave, forcing Rachel and Blaine to close the gap they'd intentionally left between them for Kurt. Noah raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything. Rachel is looking a bit put out that he isn't sitting beside her, and Blaine is watching the byplay with a speculative look.

Kurt ignores all of them, knowing he cannot face being the filling in a Rachel and Blaine sandwich right now; he just doesn't have the energy. Instead he's between Dave and Noah, which will be much easier to cope with. In theory. As long as he doesn't drink too much and can keep his hands to himself.

"Dave…" Kurt greets, his smile small and tired, and Dave smiles back, which instantly relaxes him. He'd worried that Dave might resent him, or be angry, and he's a bit embarrassed by the whole 'coming and crying' thing, but if he repeats his mantra of ' _friends'_  often enough it has to eventually sink in. _Right_?

"Hey Kurt, rough flight?" Dave asks, and even though Kurt looks like shit, Dave can't stop the flare of attraction as Kurt settles into the chair beside him.

"The flight was fine, it's the last month that's doing my head in," Kurt says, pouring himself a glass of wine after inspecting the label. Kurt looks around the table quickly and notes that apart from Mike, Mercedes and Santana everyone is looking at them with a variety of looks, ranging from knowing (Blaine), confused (Finn) to sulky (Rachel).

"When did you two become friends?" Rachel demands, tone indignant despite her apparent acceptance of Dave that very afternoon. Dave feels the resounding urge to thwack her. This is what Mercedes and Santana had warned him about. Kurt is rolling his eyes and this makes Dave feel slightly warm inside, that despite the fact the two are good friends she obviously annoys Kurt as well.

"When I went and stayed with Mercedes back in August, Dave and I hung out a lot. Him and Mike are best friends," Kurt supplies, calmly taking a sip of his wine, but Dave notices the slight pinking of cheeks, but only because he's looking for it.

Their eyes meet for a brief moment and they both look away at the same moment, and unfortunately because they're sitting beside each other it's pretty obvious and Kurt knows that at least two people at the table are likely going to pick up on it. He takes a deep steadying breath, trying not to be paranoid.

"When did you see Dave? You never told me you saw Dave!" Finn is saying, and Kurt turns to look at him incredulously.

"Finn, I  _told you_  that I saw Dave when I was in Chicago…that I saw Santana at the same time?" he prompts, getting nothing but a blank look from Finn. "It's what led to this whole semi-reunion thing in the first place!" Kurt huffs, and finally there is a dawning look of comprehension on Finn's face as he obviously recalls the conversation.

Kurt mutters under his breath about men being impossible and Dave snorts softly in amusement. The two of them share a smile again, and then conversations start up again, and Kurt just goes with the flow. People move places more than once, and he's not trying to do it intentionally, but he notes that Dave seems relaxed and at ease with everyone at the table, except maybe Blaine.

He avoids sitting down beside Rachel or Blaine for any extended period of time, just not having the energy, and he has sent Mercedes an SOS text saying she has to rescue him after ten minutes. She carries out her best friend duties valiantly and when the meals arrive Kurt finds himself once again sitting beside Dave, with Artie on his other side.

* * *

Dave can feel Kurt's knee pressed against his thigh, and he's not sure if it's intentional or accidental, or if it started out as accidental and now Kurt is fucking messing with him… but the worst part is that Dave wants to put his hand under the table and rest it on Kurt's knee to ease the nervous jiggling. Except he's fairly sure that it's tired nerves, rather than genuine nerves, because Kurt should feel at ease in the company of these people.

Unless it's Dave that is making him nervous. But Dave doesn't think so, because he's noticed Kurt avoiding spending too long with either Rachel or Blaine, and he doesn't need to know why if the result is this; Kurt's body warmth seeping through two layers of fabric and Dave's body zinging with awareness. The logical part of his brain is cowering in the corner while the other parts throw rotten fruit at it.

* * *

Kurt waits at the bar, fingers drumming against the smooth marble as he waits, mind considering several different things at once. Work. Home.  _Dave_. He feels bad, but he's been using Dave to keep awake, pressing his leg against him, because his whole body sat up and paid attention like it's just had three double espressos.

"Hey," Blaine greets, bumping his hip with one of his own. Kurt smiles at him weakly. He knows he's not his usual self, but he's too tired to put on a façade and pretend, even if it would help stop the imminent questions. "So…you and Dave huh?" Blaine says, eyes watching Kurt carefully. Kurt lets out a long breath and shakes his head slowly.

"There is no me and Dave, Blaine. He lives in Chicago. I live in LA. We aren't a unit. And I only broke up with Alex two months ago."

"Well, yeah, okay. But you want something with him, because you have this little guilty but hungry look on your face each time you look at him and think no-one is watching. Makes me pretty sure that you guys have already done something. Just not sure what," Blaine says, shrugging his shoulders slightly, and Kurt keeps his face carefully blank.

Blaine used to know him very well, but they don't see each other often enough for that type of all-knowing nature to have endured, so Kurt knows he can bluff his way through this.

"He's attractive. Even you have to admit that," Kurt says, and Blaine shrugs noncommittally. "I may have expressed interest when I was last in Chicago, a fling type thing to get over Alex, you know," Kurt waves a hand in an all-encompassing gesture. "He turned me down. Very graciously. He doesn't do flings. So no… there is nothing between us, and never will be. LA. Chicago. End of story," Kurt states, and really hopes that's the end of it.

"Huh. Okay. Shame really, he seems to be able to calm you down," Blaine says, and Kurt feels a little insulted. He doesn't need calming down! "So, if he doesn't do flings then I don't suppose I have any chance with him either," Blaine muses and Kurt refuses to react. His gut had clenched at the idea, but he knows Blaine is trying to garner a reaction, and Kurt isn't going to give him one. Fortunately his drink arrives and Kurt accepts it, before heading back towards the private dining room.

* * *

Dinner is over, and Dave is tired, but his mind is too busy to fall asleep straight away. He's changed into sweat pants and is working through some kata, trying to quiet his mind, when there is a knock at his door. He breaks form, trying to figure out whether it's the internal door that leads to Santana's room, or the one that opens to the corridor. He heads to the front door, pressing the video surveillance button so he can view who it is knocking.

Kurt is standing there, either unaware he's being watched, or not caring, as he scrubs at his face with a hand and simply looks like he's going to break into a thousand pieces. Dave takes a deep calming breath and opens the door.

"Hi. Everything alright?"

"Yeah. Can I come in?"

Dave steps back and opens the door wider to allow him to pass. He's not sure why Kurt is here, but he looks like he's about to fall asleep on his feet. He shuts the door behind him and turns to face Kurt.

"So, what can I do for you?" Dave asks, suddenly feeling a bit exposed without a shirt on, but refraining from crossing his arms to cover himself, knowing it will make him appear nervous. Which he isn't. Not really.

"Um, it wasn't so much what you can do for me, but what I can do for you… I kind of owe you one…" Kurt says, and the blush high on his cheeks makes it blatantly obvious what he's referring to. Dave tries to recall how much Kurt had to drink at dinner, but can't recall more than the one glass of wine.

"Kurt, it doesn't work like that. You don't have to pay me back. You just… obviously needed it last time, and, well… I'm just glad I could help."

"You did help. I haven't slept that well in ages," Kurt admits, and Dave feels his ego deflate a little bit. No mention of the kissing or hand job or… just a good nights rest. Good to know he's useful for something. He lets out a long loud shuddery breath, mind made up.

"Come on," Dave says, reaching a hand out for Kurt's and tugging him gently towards the bed.

"Have you changed your mind?" Kurt asks, and Dave thinks he might have been trying to be seductive, except the effect is ruined by a massive yawn.

Dave shakes his head, pushing Kurt to sit on the bed before kneeling to undo his shoes, taking them off, followed by the socks and Kurt's pants. Dave grabs a t-shirt from his bag and pulls it over Kurt's head after removing his shirt. He tries to ignore the spark of arousal he feels at seeing Kurt in his clothes. He looks ever more tired and vulnerable now. So much smaller, even though it's all illusion. He pulls back the blankets and slides in, pulling Kurt down beside him so that Kurt is enveloped in the blankets as well as Dave's body.

"Mmm, you feel good," Kurt murmurs, nuzzling into Dave's shoulder, his hand reaching for Dave's cock before Dave grabs his wrist and guides it to his hip instead. "Wanna suck you off…" Kurt slurs and Dave can't help a rueful smile.

"Just go to sleep Kurt. If you really feel like returning the favour we'll revisit the idea tomorrow when you're both fully sober and well rested," Dave says, and in his head his libido is whacking his compassion over the head with a chair. Kurt agrees with a sleepy  _'okay'_ , already drifting off, and Dave feels both touched and amused at how comfortable Kurt must feel to simply curl up and sleep with him. It's the second time in as many months he's gone to sleep with Kurt Hummel in his arms. He tries to ignore the part of his brain which is saying he could get used to this.

TBC...

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

**OCTOBER 2025 – part two**

Dave wakes first, and he isn't surprised that Kurt is still asleep. He studies him, and already he can see that the dark circles around his eyes have lessened slightly, simply from one night's sleep. He doesn't move. He doesn't want to wake Kurt, it's only just gone six, which means for Kurt it's still only three, and Dave wants him to rest as much as possible. He's feeling strangely protective.

Kurt moves in his sleep, one of his arms curling around Dave's, like he's cuddling Dave's arm to him. Dave's whole body feels warm, and he knows it is a combination between the body heat that Kurt is emitting, but also the arousal that has started a slow burn in his lower stomach. It is the most inopportune time to get an erection, but his body doesn't know that. Dave ignores the natural response, taking in deep slow breaths that smell of Kurt. He wants Kurt to sleep. He also wants more time to figure out what the hell he's going to say to him when he actually wakes up.

He feels a bit like a glutton for punishment. Having Kurt in his bed is naturally going to turn him on. He still wants to protect himself from getting hurt, but he's starting to suspect it might be too late. The fact that he's worried about Kurt should be a huge flashing warning sign, but Dave's trying to convince himself that he's concerned for Kurt as a friend. A friend he currently has in his bed making little snuffly sounds against his arm. Fuck, he is so screwed.

He forces himself to relax further, willing sleep to come so that he can wake in a few hours and either Kurt will be gone, something he's not sure how he feels about, or he can wake Kurt up and not feel guilty about stealing precious sleep he so obviously needs. He likes that he can give Kurt this, knowing that Kurt has sought him out. Him. Not Blaine or Mercedes or Rachel.  _Him_. He feels a little drunk with knowledge that he can somehow give Kurt something his other friends can't.

He's deliberately ignoring what Kurt had said and offered last night in his obviously sleep-deprived state, he's not going to build up any expectations only to have them torn down. And he knows he's in two minds about  _letting_  anything actually happen between himself and Kurt. He's not stupid. He knows if anything does happen, it's not the start of a relationship, and that grates against his nerves. Having never 'played the field', he's not one for casual hook-ups, but his history with Kurt makes this  _thing_  anything but casual. He's so fucking confused.

* * *

When Dave wakes for the second time he feels groggy, a side effect of sleeping in for him, and the reason why he never sleeps in as a general rule. He glances over at the clock and then at Kurt, only to be met with barely opened eyes that are watching him.

"Hey," Kurt says, his voice husky with sleep, and he's rumpled and has crease marks on his cheek from the pillow. He looks fucking gorgeous. Dave doesn't say anything, just smiles softly; worried that anything he says right now will simply ruin the moment.

"What time is it?"

"Almost eight. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," Kurt replies, suddenly embarrassed. "Thanks. I…"

Dave tries to shrug as best he can while lying down but all he succeeds in doing is jostling Kurt.

"You needed to sleep. I…don't mind."

Kurt watches him in silence for what feels like ages, but is actually less than a minute judging from the clock on the bedside table. Then Kurt is moving against him, sliding closer so that there is only a hand span between their chests.

"You're a good man David Karofsky…" Kurt says, and his eyes are dark with  _something._  Dave's pretty sure it's desire. He swallows, suddenly nervous.

It's crunch time. It's like his sister's pick-a-path books he used to read. If you want to kiss Kurt, turn to page 76. If you want to gently suggest to Kurt that he needs to leave, turn to page 54. If you want to fuck Kurt into oblivion turn to page 138. He wants to cheat and read all the possible paths and endings, just so he knows what he should do  _right now_.

Kurt's mouth is hot against his own, thankfully making the decision for him, and Dave groans at the sensation of warm hard flesh pushing against him. Dave's libido has a hand firmly clamped over logic's mouth, quietening the arguments that he really shouldn't be going along with this until he's figured everything out. But really, what man would turn this down?

Kurt's hands are pushing him back, forcing him to lie there and he watches as Kurt shoves the bedclothes off the bed impatiently after they tangle in his feet. He pulls his t-shirt off and Dave feels a little pang, because Kurt looked damn sexy in his t-shirt, but now they are both shirtless, and when Kurt runs hands down his chest, fingers twirling through his chest hair and tugging gently, Dave can't feel too upset.

He reaches his own hands up, running his fingers up Kurt's ribs, relishing the feel of super soft skin, and Kurt arches into the touch. Dave reaches for Kurt's hand and tugs him down for another kiss. There is no alcohol involved this time, no sleep-deprivation that either of them can blame for affecting their decision making abilities. They both want this. Knows the other wants it just as much.

Kurt is watching him, eyes roaming up and down Dave's body, and he looks  _hungry_. Hands go to Dave's waistband and give a gentle pull and Kurt raises both eyebrows at him. Dave realises then that Kurt is driving this encounter. He's driven all of them really, but he probably didn't feel very in-control last time, so wants to be the one leading this time. Dave's fine with that. For now. He raises his hips and Kurt slips his sweatpants down, off and throws them the way of the discarded bedding.

Kurt is kneeling beside him now, still wearing his boxer-brief underwear that Dave's eyes flick to, and then back to Kurt's face. He knows Kurt caught him looking when he smiles slowly, deviously, and makes a (thankfully short) show of removing them. He's already hard, and Dave feels a distinct amount of pride knowing that he's caused that reaction.

Patience snapped Dave reaches for him and pulls Kurt down so he's half lying atop Dave, half lying on the bed. Kurt manoeuvres himself, slots one leg between Dave's, and rests himself on Dave's chest. Dave still hasn't said anything, and if he didn't know better he's pretty sure his libido has reached out and got a hand over his mouth as well, making him incapable of speech, just in case he says something stupid that will put a stop to this… this gorgeousness.

Kurt is moving slowly, hips canting forward to create a slow drive of friction between their bodies, their cocks rubbing against each other. Kurt's lips are busy, nipping and sucking down his neck and along his collar bone. His hand has snuck between their bodies to find Dave's erection, and slender soft fingers have encircled him, not firmly though, and the sensation is  _maddening_.

"I meant what I said last night…" Kurt murmurs, his voice barely audible above their harsh breathing, and Dave is struggling to remember what his name is, let alone what Kurt said to him –  _oh fuck_. He remembers. Oh fuck, Kurt said he wanted to suck him. Dave lets out a low whine, hips thrusting upwards in an attempt to seek more friction.

"Can I?" Kurt asks, and Dave realises that maybe he's not so hard-to-read after all, because he can  _hear_  the other silent question in Kurt's voice.  _Will you let me?_  He lets his head fall back onto the pillows, letting out a long shuddering breath.

"God yes…  _please_ ," Dave moans, now that it's actually happening he couldn't turn this down if his life depended on it.

With those three words his voice has come back to him, and he's murmuring a constant stream of endearments mixed with expletives as Kurt kisses his way down his body. Kurt's tongue darts out to make a tentative swipe at his nipple and Dave squirms.  _'Ticklish_ ' he manages to get out, and catches Kurt's delighted grin. Fortunately Kurt doesn't stop to investigate the ticklish claim any further, obviously intent on the task at hand, and Dave is grateful, because he's so turned on right now and doesn't want to be distracted, if that's even possible.

Kurt has not stopped stroking his cock, the pressure increasing in infinitesimal amounts as Kurt has moved lower. The tension is becoming unbearable, and when he  _finally_  feels Kurt's hot breath on his cock he groans Kurt's name. That seems to have been all Kurt was waiting for, and suddenly there is a hot mouth surrounding his cock and Dave groans again.

Kurt obviously falls into the category of guys that love giving head, Dave decides in some small rational part of his brain that hasn't melted yet. Kurt's tongue is moving like it's a separate entity to Kurt, rolling around, twisting and twirling, almost like it's performing a dance with his cock. Kurt is kneeling between his legs and he looks  _amazing._  He fists his hands into the sheet, not wanting to interrupt an obvious fucking master at work.

Kurt's hands are busy as well, one still around the base of his cock moving in tandem with his mouth to create the pull and slide which is pushing him rapidly to the edge. The other hand is fondling his balls, a finger occasionally brushing against his perineum with an exploratory feel, obviously trying to get a sense of whether Dave is okay with further exploration. He is. He more than  _is_. But not today. Not now. He isn't going to last long enough. He's already denied himself release once this morning and he'd obviously lost his mind thinking he wouldn't give in to  _this._

He can feel his orgasm approaching, the telling tightness in his balls as they draw up despite Kurt's insistent tugging on them. The swirling heat in his stomach, the achy almost painful hardness of his cock. Dave reaches for Kurt's head, although he suspects that Kurt is a swallower, it's still polite to give some warning, and fuck he needs to give that warning  _right now._  Kurt bats his hand away with an obvious degree of impatience which would make Dave smile at any time other than this.

"Kurt, I'm…close," Dave manages to get out, and he's thinking that it's likely a gross understatement. Kurt looks up to meet his eyes briefly, and then he removes his hand from around Dave's cock, and suddenly Dave can feel Kurt's throat around him, swallowing and he doesn't hold back. He lets himself go with an animalistic grunt and he can feel Kurt's throat swallowing around him and fuck it feels like the best thing  _ever_.

Giving blowjobs isn't Dave's favourite activity in bed, there are other things he'd rather do to his partner, but he's never had any complaints either. He ignores the feeling of lassitude that is rolling through his body, and props himself up on an elbow, his other hand reaching for Kurt as he slowly releases Dave's spent cock from his mouth.

"My turn," Dave states, and he pulls Kurt up and kisses him until the taste of himself fades from Kurt's mouth and he can taste Kurt again. He knows he doesn't have the same level of skill as Kurt, but he doubts Kurt will care.

He's had Kurt beside him and above him, and now he wants to feel Kurt beneath him. He holds and rolls, and Kurt is grinning up at him, eyes playful. Dave can't help but grin back at him as he moves down the bed, hands trailing down Kurt's body. Kurt lets out an appreciative breathy gasp and Dave wonders which part of Kurt's body he touched to elect  _that_  response. He hopes he has time to explore later.

He licks a broad stripe up Kurt's cock, noting the trimmed pubic hair. He's pretty sure that Kurt must shave or wax, it is possible though that he's simply not got a lot of body hair. Dave would feel self-conscious about his own if Kurt hadn't been clearly appreciative of it before. He runs gentle fingers over Kurt's inner thigh, marvelling at finding even softer skin.

His fingers close around Kurt slowly, relishing the feel of satiny-soft skin. He'd not paid enough attention last time, so he's trying to memorise everything this time, just in case this never happens again. His licks slowly, memorising the slide and taste. Unlike himself Kurt is leaking pre-come, and the taste is both familiar anf foreign and entirely  _Kurt_.

"Stop fucking about and suck me,  _please_ ," Kurt says, and Dave is amused by the combined tone of command and plea there. He's not going to muck around, so he takes Kurt's cock into his mouth and sucks. He doesn't have the tongue swirling or the deep throating or any of the other fancy techniques that Kurt had used, but he has the intense drive to make Kurt feel  _good_.

Kurt is obviously close, and it feels like barely minutes of concerted sucking and licking that Kurt is tugging on his hair. Dave doesn't let up, he doesn't mind the taste, but he'll need to concentrate on not gagging and looking like an idiot. He doesn't gag, but nor does he manage to swallow it all. However he's intensely glad of his own shortcomings when Kurt is on him instantly, licking his own come from Dave's chin and groaning, mumbling about ' _your fucking stubble_ ' in such a way that Dave's pretty sure that Kurt  _likes_  his stubble. Weird man.

Dave expects there to be awkwardness between them, now that they've both gotten off and the intense cloud of arousal has lifted. Kurt doesn't look awkward though, he's stretching and lying back down, looking extremely self-satisfied and he reaches for Dave, pulling him down beside him. Dave lets him, and Kurt is humming in contentment.

"Mmm, wish we could stay here all day," Kurt says, and his fingers are playing with Dave's hand, tracing over knuckles and fingertips. Dave can't help but feel flattered, but he is curious.

"You don't want to spend time with your friends?" he asks, and he starts mimicking the tracing motion, and his fingertips start to feel hyper-aware.

"Honestly? No. I just want to relax. Rachel and Blaine aren't the most relaxing people to be around," Kurt explains, and Dave  _mmm_ 's in agreement, finally understanding some of Kurt's behaviour from the previous evening.

"Well, I'm pretty sure between Mercedes, Mike and me we can run some pretty good interference for you. You can't come all this way and stay holed up in your room."

"I'm not. I'd be holed up in  _your_  room," Kurt corrects, and he's grinning up at the ceiling. Dave shakes his head and nudges Kurt in the side gently. Kurt lets out a long sigh and turns to look at him.

"I know I know. I'll be fine. Definitely feel better now than I did last night," Kurt muses and Dave snorts softly.

"You look better. Why haven't you been sleeping?"

"Work. I work too hard. I… Alex always forced me to go to bed, and he ensured I ate. I'm not so good at looking after myself."

Dave can't stop his stomach clenching at the mention of the ex, or the fact that Kurt isn't looking after himself. He's also glad there is nothing more sinister behind Kurt's outward appearance last night, although he's not sure Kurt would tell him if there was. Lack of sleep and food haven't affected his abilities in bed at least, and Dave knows he'll be remembering that blowjob and comparing every one he receives in the future to it.

"You can deep throat," Dame comments, and it sounds ridiculous out loud, a complete non sequitur outside of his mind, but Kurt is grinning at him in such a way that Dave can't help but grin back, and he supposes Kurt has taken it as a compliment. Which it is, even if he didn't mean it that way.

"All that singing as a teenager, mastering my vocal cords and all that," Kurt says, and his eyes are clearly amused, and Dave isn't sure if Kurt is teasing him. He likes the light-hearted nature and playfulness that Kurt is exuding though, and wants to do everything he can to keep Kurt like this.

* * *

They're in the shower a mere fifteen minutes later, soapy hands pretending to wash each other, soft kisses as they eventually get clean. Kurt isn't looking forward to getting back in to dirty clothes, but needs must. He's distracting himself by running his fingers over the odd looking tattoo on the inside of Dave's upper arm and he can't deny he's not curious to know what it means.

He's never been a fan of tattoos, not seeing the point in them, but this design has him fascinated. When he'd first caught sight of it, he'd thought it was one giant upside-down teardrop, then he'd had a closer look only to see an odd-looking tree shape, almost folded in on itself, it's branches all twisted. Now that he can see it in the bright light of the bathroom he can see five letters as well: L, U, R, C and an S.

He wants to ask, but he's also aware that Dave is struggling with whatever is happening between the two of them and he doesn't want to push more than he already has. He'd been surprised this morning; sure that Dave was going to say no. Kurt is glad he didn't, but he wonders how long it will be until Dave puts the break on this. Whatever  _this_ is.

The both rinse off and step out, and Kurt likes how comfortable he feels. At ease. It's exactly how he feels with Mercedes, except he's not, and never has been, attracted to her. Even now Kurt feels his body alight with awareness from simply watching Dave dry himself. He looks up then and catches Kurt's eye.

"You okay?" Dave asks him, and Kurt still has moments where he struggles to believe that this is really Dave Karofsky.

"Yeah. Hungry."

"Yeah, me too. Want to meet up in the hotel restaurant?"

"Sounds good. I just need to go get some clean clothes."

Dave nods in understanding as he pulls on clean boxer-briefs and jeans. Kurt pulls on his pants, but shoves his underwear into his pocket, unable to bring himself to put them back on. He buttons his shirt and pulls on his socks and shoes, checks his pocket for his key card, wallet and phone.

He moves towards the door and Dave follows him, holding it open for him while he gazes down at Kurt, small smile gracing his features. Kurt reaches a hand up and cups a smooth jawline in his hand.

"I'll see you in a bit okay?"

"Yeah, sure thing," Dave responds.

The rumble-clang of a trolley interrupts them as a bellboy exits the service lift and they both watch as he straightens the plate covers.

"Huh, I wasn't even thinking… we could have done that. And still be in bed," Kurt says, grinning and on impulse he reaches up and tugs Dave down for a drawn-out kiss.

* * *

Dave is surprised, but he is also trying to pay attention to where the bellboy has now stopped, and he has no idea whether Kurt realises that Mercedes' room is  _right there_. He tugs Kurt inside and lets the door close swiftly, unsure how to voice his thoughts. He doesn't know what they are. And really, it's no one else's business. However, if they see Kurt leaving his room questions  _are_  going to be asked, and right now he wants to spare Kurt that added drama.

So he turns Kurt's innocently-intended kiss into a more full-on make out session until they are both breathless and Dave is thinking he might need another shower. Kurt is looking at him wide-eyed with a small degree of disbelief, and Dave likes that he's maybe come across as slightly unpredictable. Kurt gives him one hard final kiss before opening the door again and disappearing, but not before telling Dave he'll see him for breakfast.

* * *

Mercedes is starving. They've ordered room service for breakfast, and she's waiting by the door, still in the flimsy nighty she'd packed for the weekend (comfortable worn flannel pyjamas were not something you took for a weekend away with your boyfriend).They had said thirty minutes, and it's been twenty-eight. She presses the video surveillance button again, wondering whether she'll see anything other than the empty corridor she's seen the last two times.

The door opposite is opening, and she perks up, anything to help pass the time. She knows it's the door to Dave's room, and her eyes widen as she observes Dave holding the door open for Kurt. She watches slack-jawed as Kurt reaches up and cups Dave's face, before their attention is drawn to the room service trolley finally arriving. The one she doesn't currently give a damn about, because her best friend is kissing Dave and Dave is pulling Kurt back inside his room.  _What the hell?_

She knows they get along now, but she'd never imagined  _this_. Suddenly she wants to know everything about Dave, how many guys he's dated, whether or not he's a good boyfriend, what the hell he's doing with Kurt across the hallway. She knows Mike will have most of the answers, and he's currently getting dressed on the other side of the room.

She deals with the room service delivery quickly, feeling a bit rude, but her mind is now rushing through dozens of scenarios and coming up with very few answers. Distractedly she makes Mike a cup of tea and her questions break through as she passes the cup to him.

"How many boyfriends has Dave had?"

Mike raises an eyebrow at the question, not sure where it has come from, and not sure whether discussing his gay-best friend's sex life with his girlfriend is normal Sunday morning conversation. Also it's not his to tell, but the hunted look in Mercedes' eyes tells him not to even try that argument.

"Um," Mike starts, takes a sip of his tea to stall for time, "Three. Why?"

Mercedes' eyes fly around the room before finally meeting Mike's, and he feels a bit concerned, and then suddenly he realises that she's seen someone leaving Dave's room. He then makes the next logical step and realises that not just any guy leaving Dave's room would elect this response from her. His eyes widen and Mercedes is watching him, nodding in confirmation as she realises Mike has joined the dots.

"No…he wouldn't. Kurt lives in LA."

Mercedes blinks. Frowns. That wasn't what she'd expected to be a valid point. And actually, now that she thinks about it, they're both grown men and can make their own decisions. It's none of her business. Unless Kurt gets hurt and she has to pick up the pieces.

"Why does that matter?"

"Dave doesn't do long distance. He just…doesn't. His last boyfriend, Greg, now lives in London. They contemplated long distance before finally just calling it quits. Are you sure they weren't just meeting up for breakfast?"

Mercedes raises a disbelieving eyebrow and stares at Mike until he lets out a long sigh of defeat.

"What did you see?"

"Well, if Kurt hadn't been dressed in his clothes from  _yesterday_  the second clue would have been when he kissed Dave."

"I take it that it wasn't a friendly goodbye peck…"

"No. Definitely  _no_ …"

"Shit. What's he thinking?" Mike mumbles, and Mercedes knows the question is rhetorical, but she also realises then that Mike is worried about Dave the same way she's worrying about Kurt.

Kurt's definitely been with more than three guys, she can name eight off the top of her head, but there are more that Kurt has mentioned in passing that never lasted long. Alex had been his longest relationship since Blaine, and she has a sinking feeling of dread in her stomach. She's no longer solely worried about Kurt getting hurt, she's now more worried about Dave.

* * *

Santana has beaten him to the restaurant and is sipping coffee while reading the paper. She smiles in greeting and then goes back to reading in silence. Dave steals the sports section from the paper and then places his order with the hovering waitress. He reads in silence for a few moments, before looking up and seeing Kurt enter the restaurant. He studies Kurt as he walks toward the table and then shrugs internally. He can't define what this is, but he's not going to worry and stress about it, because that won't change the facts. It won't change what has already happened between them.

He's going to play this by ear, something he's never done before. All his previous relationships have been slow to develop, Dave needing a level of trust before allowing anything to happen and handing his heart over, because he doesn't know any other way to be in a relationship. But this…this is different. Dave doesn't know how to define it, so has given up trying and he'll just go with the flow and try to protect his heart as best he can.

* * *

Rachel has organised tickets for them all to see a matinee show for something Dave has never heard of, but the name gets an appreciative smile from Kurt. Dave isn't a fan of the theatre, but he can appreciate it in the same way he appreciates any professional doing their job well. However he still sidles up to Mike and asks him to ensure he doesn't fall asleep. Mike grins at him, but also looks at him a little oddly and Dave quirks an eyebrow, knowing something is up, but shrugs when Mike waves him away.

Everyone has taken their seats, Kurt is obviously excited about the show because he's talking excitedly with both Rachel and Blaine, his reluctance to spend time with them obviously forgotten in this setting. Dave is pleased for him, glad that Kurt can actually enjoy his time here with his friends.

Dave easily manages to stay awake and afterwards Rachel leads them to a small Greek bistro nearby. They're walking briskly, it's cold and there are dark clouds above which threaten rain. When someone grabs Dave's arm he knows it's not Kurt, because he's up ahead leading the charge. He turns to find Mercedes looking at him, and he knows, he just  _knows_ , that she'd seen them this morning in the corridor. Damn stupid surveillance cameras.

She doesn't beat around the bush, and Dave doesn't pretend to not know what she's talking about. She asks if he knows what he's doing, and Dave shakes his head. To be honest, he doesn't think Kurt has any idea either. Mercedes slows to a halt, letting them fall even further behind the others.

"I don't want you getting hurt any more than I want Kurt to get hurt," Mercedes says gently, concern in her eyes as she rests a hand on his arm. Dave's inexplicably touched by her concern for him, but also a little worried that she seems to think that he may come off worse in this whole thing Kurt and he have going. It's one thing to suspect it yourself, but to have the best friend of the other person concerned  _also_  suspect it makes it all a bit more real. "But," Mercedes continues, "it's none of anyone's business but your own. Plus Kurt looks better today than he did last night, and if you're the reason then I can deal with that."

Dave's not sure how to reply, so he doesn't, just shrugs. He's going to assume that Mercedes knows about Kurt's apparent inability to look after himself. How he's not sleeping and eating. He can't be the only one out of the two of them that had been shocked at Kurt's appearance last night. He lets out a deep breath and looks Mercedes in the eye, to ensure she know he's sincere.

"I don't want to hurt him, and I don't want to be hurt by him. But…it may be inevitable."

"But neither of you should stop… whatever you're doing… on the chance that you  _might_  be hurt. It's one of those things you just have to take a chance on."

What she is saying simply backs up his ' _play it by ear_ ' strategy he'd decided on that morning, and he silently agrees with a smile and a nod.

* * *

They're meant to be going to another show that night, but Kurt begs off, saying he's tired and needs to sleep. He realises he must still look pretty terrible, because no-one tries to coax him into coming along. He hasn't decided whether he'll stay in his room, or go and join Dave in his. He can't right now, earlier Dave and Mike had disappeared somewhere together to catch up with a college buddy over drinks and dinner, so Kurt is in his own room staring at the ceiling and wondering what he's doing in regards to Dave Karofsky.

He starts with the facts: Dave Karofsky is attractive, smart and seems to be a giant softie when it comes to Kurt's needs. He also lives in Chicago, is very involved in his family and has a wide circle of friends he sees on a regular basis. He's only ever been in long-term stable relationships, and when Kurt thinks about this he's a combination of ashamed and confused.

Ashamed, because the first time, back in Dave's apartment, Kurt knows he virtually threw himself at Dave. He knows he shouldn't feel ashamed, and he knows that Dave could have said no, but instead gave in. That leads to Kurt's confusion around the matter. Why did Dave give in? He remembers Dave saying that Kurt is his type, and at the time Kurt believed every word Dave had said, because he  _needed_  to. But looking back he's pretty sure Dave said those things to make him feel good about himself.

Last night Dave just took him to bed and let him sleep, an act that Kurt rates far more intimate than some other things. He'd thought at the time it was confirmation that Dave didn't actually find him attractive, but this morning activities have blown that theory completely out of the water. No one can fake that sort of reaction, and it had made Kurt feel  _powerful_. He's decided he must be Dave's exception to the whole stable-relationship theme.

Kurt has realised over the last 24-hours that he needs to start taking care of himself, his admission to Dave about Alex having to ensure he didn't work too hard had made him feel weak, and he knows he's not, not really, but he's never allowing himself to feel like that again, so will have to implement some changes in his life when he gets back to LA.

Dave though…Kurt likes him. A lot. But he also doesn't want to start a new relationship right now, when he knows he's not in a completely healthy place. Also he doesn't know if Dave wants a relationship, or how it would work with a four-hour flight separating them. But… and there are so many buts and unknowns and what ifs that Kurt knows he needs to talk to Dave and try to make sense of what this is and where it might go.

**TBC…**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! Erm, I feel like this chapter is almost all smut. I'm not sure if I should apologise for that or not? This story was meant to be a "chapter per month" deal, and I failed with that right at the start. (Please note how little I actually care.) If you get confused with the time lapse, the month is right at the top of the chapter. Chapters 1-3 were August, Chapter 4 was September (yeah, no Kurt/Dave means a fast month!), Chapters 5-7 are October. Next chapter November starts! I never intend to offend anyone with any of my writing, if I do so you have my sincerest apologies.
> 
> Thanks again go to Debraelq, for not only helping me out, but also telling people on Tumblr about this fic. I joined Tumblr (sunmontue-writes), spent just enough time on there to figure out how to follow Debraelq and then ran in the opposite direction to avoid spoilers. (And since I wrote that note i am on there daily and just haven't watched Glee since Season 2 because i had seen all the worthwhile bits on tumblr already).

**OCTOBER 2025 – part three**

Dave has been trying to practise mental avoidance all evening with little to no success. He's with Mike and James, James being more Mike's friend then his own, so he's been able to be distracted all evening while Mike and James catch up. If Mike has noticed he hasn't commented, or doesn't care. Or knows exactly why Dave seems to be unable to pay any attention to the conversation.

Dave realises belatedly it's the latter. Knows Mercedes would have talked to Mike about it. He's a bit surprised she doesn't seem to have spoken to Kurt, but then again he hasn't been glued to their sides all day so there's a chance they've talked. Away from Kurt his rational and logical parts are reinforcing their foundations, knocking down the flimsy ' _play it by ear_ ' game plan and telling him in chorus that he needs to talk to Kurt.

He doesn't want to have  _that_  conversation. Doesn't want to be the one to start it with the over-used and cliché ' _we need to talk_ '. But they  _do_  need to talk. He's just not sure how to start it off, or what he wants to say exactly. Kurt's pretty much been calling all of the shots so far, and Dave's not a naturally passive person, but he doesn't know what he wants here, and that's his biggest problem. It's difficult to start a conversation when you don't know what direction you want it to go.

He excuses himself from Mike and James' company, saying he's tired and going to head back to the hotel. He ignores Mike's smirk and knowing grin, fighting the impulse to give him a one fingered salute. He hails a cab rather than attempting the subway. In his current state he's likely to miss his stop completely and end up at the end of the line.

Dave's on autopilot as he moves through the hotel lobby, wondering when the others will get back from whatever show Rachel and Blaine have dragged them all of too for the evening. He has no idea if he should seek Kurt out, or whether Kurt will seek him out when he get back. The elevator doors open and Dave realises he won't need to do anything because Kurt is obviously waiting for him; sitting in one of the decorative chairs near the elevator and studying something on his phone with an intense level of concentration.

Kurt's lack of attention on the elevators mean Dave has time to study him. He still thinks Kurt has to be one of the most attractive men he's ever seen, especially now that he knows what is beneath the clothing. Kurt's still slim and lean, with long supple muscles like a dancer. His hair is in complete disarray, but he still has that nervous habit of smoothing one piece of hair to the side, which he does as Dave watches and Dave just wants to ruffle it up again.

And  _that_  is why he's confused. It's like he's become two separate entities, one that wants Kurt and everything that goes with him and screw the consequences, and the other, his more cautious careful self. He lets out a quiet groan of frustration at how mixed up he feels and Kurt's head flies up, eyes meeting his.

"We need to talk," Kurt says, and he's pulling a face as he stands and despite his inner battle Dave has to hide a smile at Kurt's obvious dislike of the phrase as well. At least that's what he assumes it is. Anyway, it seems they're going to be having that  _talk_ anyway, but Dave feels almost sick with relief that Kurt has instigated it.

"Yeah, okay. Where?" Dave asks. He would have simply led them to his room, but he's worried that talking will likely be forgotten, or that it might come across as a come-on, which are pretty much one and the same.

"Your room? If that's okay?"

He sounds as nervous as Dave feels and weirdly that realisation calms him. He shrugs and nods, letting Kurt follow him to his room. He opens the door and steps back to allow Kurt in first, which he does with a quick smile at Dave and a slight flush on his neck.

"You want a drink?" Dave asks, and he hopes Kurt says yes, because he needs one. Kurt nods once, sharply, and rubs his hands on his thighs before settling himself on the small sofa in the corner of the room. Dave pours out the tiny bottle of whiskey into two glasses. It's the only spirit in the minibar he's willing to drink at room temperature, and Kurt is watching him so Dave assumes he has no problems with it.

He hands Kurt a glass and then shoots his own drink back in one gulp. Kurt does the same and Dave puts the glasses on the sideboard, taking a seat in the small one-seater opposite Kurt. The silence between them for once is uncomfortable, and it's making Dave's skin itch. He wants to say something, anything, to get this conversation started, but he has no idea what.

* * *

Kurt tries not to cough as the whisky burns its way down his throat and into his virtually empty stomach. It's not his favourite form of Dutch courage, but right now he'll take anything he can get. Dave is watching him with hooded eyes, and Kurt knows Dave has raised his internal barriers again. Now to try and talk to him and not offend or hurt him in the process.

"I like you. A lot," Kurt starts, deciding to lead with the facts. "I feel… like I can be myself around you," he adds, and  _fucking Blaine_ , that's what he meant when he said that Dave seemed to calm him. Kurt feels rested and enlivened at the same time and even bloody Blaine picked up on that. Despite all the thinking he's done this evening he's only just making this realisation. "I like spending time with you, in and out of bed," Kurt continues, and he can't stop the flush creeping up his neck.

* * *

"But," Dave interjects, knowing it is coming and just wanting to speed up this whole non-break-up thing so that it's over.

"Yeah, but. I need to figure myself out. Like sleeping and eating and not fucking up my life. But I like what we have…and I know it isn't ideal, with our respective locations, but I've been thinking… and I'm not ready to be in a relationship yet, but when I am, I'd like it to be with you."

Dave is confused, Kurt is rambling and is a bit all over the place. He's not sure whether to stop him and ask for clarification, or just let him continue and hope that he starts making sense. If only he could replay what Kurt has just said in slow-motion. Kurt is looking at him expectantly, and Dave replays the last sentence over.

"Are you asking me to wait for you?"

"I…no! I can't ask you to put your life on hold like that!"

Kurt's response doesn't help clear up matters, because Dave  _would_  wait for Kurt.

"Uh, so what's your plan exactly?"

"I…I need to…find some balance in my life. By myself. On my own on a day-to-day basis. I'm not going to go looking for anyone, because I'm… I'm kind of hoping that when I have figured everything out, and you're still available, then we could maybe look at a relationship," Kurt explains.

Dave's stomach feels like a rollercoaster being ridden by a herd of butterflies and he's not really sure what to say, because this… this is not what he had been expecting, and he doesn't even know now what he  _was_  expecting, but it definitely wasn't this. He blinks. Blinks again as he studies Kurt, questions streaming through his head.  _What are they now? What if Kurt meets someone? What if Dave meets someone? How long does Kurt think it'll be before he's got himself sorted?_

"So what are we  _now_  exactly?" Dave asks, it's the first question that had popped into his head and he's damn curious to know how Kurt views what they've been doing. He has no knowledge of Kurt's history, except that he's been in what Dave assumes was a reasonably stable relationship for the last four years, which he supposes he can extrapolate from that that Kurt doesn't flit from one sexual partner to the next, but still…

"Um, friends? Just…I haven't been with anyone since that night in your apartment, and I won't be with anyone else until I feel ready. Except you."

"Me?" Dave asks, and his mind is supplying images of exactly what they've done together, and he of course hasn't been with anyone else either, and he hasn't been looking, actively turning guys down in fact, recalling the waiter yesterday.

"I'm…when I'm around you, I want to be with you."

"Oh," Dave replies, but doesn't admit he feels the same. He's still confused. "So, when we're together, we're together together, and when we're apart we're not-together but exclusive. What if I meet someone?" Dave asks, and he feels like he's talking in circles and in a straight line at the same time.

"If you meet someone you want to be with, then you let me know and all bets are off."

Dave frowns. What Kurt is proposing sounds exactly like the current situation they're in, except a bit more defined maybe. They just wouldn't be calling it anything official. It's then that Dave realises Kurt is fixating on being single, and needing to be single to sort out himself, and his life. Dave can understand that well enough so he nods in agreement, but inside his stomach is doing little happy flips. The way he looks at it, he's now in a relationship, albeit a long-distance and oddly-defined one.

"So, just so I'm completely clear. We're friends with exclusive benefits. Benefits that we can only actually benefit from when we happen to be in the same place," he points out and Kurt is smiling at him now, obviously feeling more relaxed. "That's the status quo until you want to upgrade it. And if either of us change our minds, or meet someone, we let the other know," Dave finishes, and he hates the idea of Kurt with anyone else. As he's spoken he's realised that this form of open and frank conversation at the beginning of a relationship is good, even if it is incredibly unusual, not to mention weird.

"Yeah. An un- conventional non-relationship with mutual respect," Kurt says, and Dave nods, despite the fact that he disagrees. It sounds and feels like a pretty conventional relationship to  _him_. There's just one thing he needs to add, that he wants and needs Kurt to know.

"You know how you said you're not going to go looking for anyone?" Dave asks, and Kurt nods slowly in response. "Well, neither am I," Dave says, and he meets Kurt's eyes with his and tries to convey his sincerity without being overwhelming. He doesn't want to push Kurt, just offer some reassurance that when Kurt is ready, he'll be there.

They sit in silence again, this time it's comfortable, and they're staring at each other, slow smiles appearing that stutter into light chuckles and then full-out laughter as the tension they've both been feeling finally drains away.

"Can I stay tonight?" Kurt asks, and the tone of his voice doesn't even imply that he means it as a question; and Dave doesn't even pause before he's out of his chair, pulling Kurt up so he's standing and closing the tiny gap between them and looking down at him.

"You are  _definitely_  staying tonight," Dave states, resting his hands on Kurt's hips, relishing the simple rightness in the action. Everything feels easy right now, and he supposes he just has to have faith that everything else will just fall into place. Eventually. He hopes.

He kisses along Kurt's jaw, feeling the barely-there stubble, nips lightly at an earlobe and moves down Kurt's neck, hands slipping to cup Kurt's arse as he holds Kurt against him. He can feel Kurt's hands, one his back, grasping at his shirt, the other on his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging. Dave allows his head to be bought back up and Kurt is kissing him. Dave doesn't think he'll ever get sick of this feeling, this sudden heady rush.

* * *

Kurt feels light headed, and he knows it is a combination of the sudden rush of arousal, being pulled up into a standing position so abruptly, and the fact he hasn't eaten since the late-breakfast he'd had with Dave (and weirdly, Santana). He'd not been hungry enough to do anything more than pick at his Greek salad at lunch, but now he's starving, but Dave's hands are on his arse, and he can feel the swelling of Dave's cock against his own, and this is  _far_ more important than food.

His stomach grumbles loudly, disagreeing with him, loud enough to startle Dave into stilling briefly before pulling away and giving him a concerned look.

"This first, then food," Kurt mumbles, pushing his body back up against Dave. He feels Dave's body shake against him as he laughs silently and Kurt can't help but grin into the side of Dave's neck, wondering if maybe he does have his priorities wrong.

"I'm not going to argue," Dave replies and Kurt is glad he's not going to insist on him eating something first. Sex, food then sleep. Sounds perfect to him.

All day he's been thinking of Dave's cock. Not constantly, but enough that he'd become uncomfortably hard several times throughout the day. Blaine had noticed at lunch and raised an eyebrow, recognising the signs and Kurt had just glared at him, daring him,  _daring him_ , to say anything. Blaine had just snorted and continued eating. Kurt had spent the rest of lunch avoiding both him  _and_  Dave, particularly the way Dave licked his fingers.

Now though, Dave is in front of him, and Kurt can feel how hard he is through his jeans, his own erection hot and heavy. Kurt wants to suck him again. Dave's responses this morning had been gratifying and done wonders for his ego. Kurt doesn't think Dave is going to mind. He palms himself and then Dave, eyes watching Dave's face carefully.

Kurt watches as he lowers himself to his knees, and Dave's eyes follow him, darkening, and Kurt just  _looks_. Dave appears all strength, but Kurt feels like he's the one with all the power right now. Dave isn't stopping him, and Kurt can't help a self-satisfied smirk. Dave's breathing has sped up fractionally and he looks a little lost, unsure what to do with his hands.

He can't make his intentions any clearer, so Kurt stops wasting time, although he usually likes to build the anticipation a bit more. He's not feeling in an overly patient mood. He rests one hand on Dave's thigh, gripping as firmly as he can as he runs his other hand up to the fly of Dave's jeans. He tries for unhurried haste with no idea of how successful he appears. His eyes are to the front now, but when he chances a look up the same dark eyes are watching him with an intensity Kurt hasn't seen in a while.

He unbuttons the top of Dave's pants, both hands working surely and firmly to ease the zipper down. He edges forward, aligning himself more closely. He manoeuvres the pants and underwear down, moving so that Dave's cock is against his cheek, the touch of heated flesh making his own cock harden further.

That morning Kurt had at first thought that Dave's cock was comparable to his own, but he'd quickly realised his error. In proportion to his body Dave's cock  _is_  like his own. However Dave just happens to be seven inches taller and probably has sixty pounds on Kurt. His cock is maybe an inch longer and definitely thicker, but between Dave's thighs it looks completely average, but Kurt knows differently now.

He inhales the scent of warmth and arousal and runs his tongue over the head. Again the fact that Dave is uncut surprises him. He's not sure why though; it's not like he has given Dave's cock a lot of thought before recently. Dave is making appreciative sounds above him and Kurt can feel his legs shudder every so often, the muscles flexing. Feeling devious Kurt relaxes his throat and just  _swallows_.

"Oh  _fuck_."

As he sucks his jaw twinges, reminding him that while he did partake in this particular activity not too long ago, it's been a long time before that, because he doesn't usually get an achy jaw. Then again Dave is definitely more positively endowed than Alex, so his jaw, tongue and neck muscles are definitely getting a workout.

As he massages the underside of Dave's cock with his tongue he still can't taste any pre-come and he can't help but feel a bit miffed. His own cock is dripping like a leaky fucking tap and making his underwear cling to him uncomfortably, but is also increasing the friction when he occasionally reaches down to quickly and roughly palm his own cock through the fabric of his pants. He pulls back, sucking as he goes, drawing a deep shuddering gasp from above him.

"Don't hold back," Kurt says, and the look Dave gives his is disbelieving.

"Trust me, I'm not," Dave replies, voice shaky and breathy in a way which makes Kurt feel smug. However he's pretty sure Dave thought he was referring to him coming when he told him not to hold back and he can't stop the heated blush starting because he wasn't. He  _so_  wasn't. He wants Dave to use him, fuck his mouth until he comes. He's not going to say the words again and just hope that he'll get his message across with his actions.

He relaxes his throat again, moving his head more rapidly, the nails on one hand digging into Dave's side, urging him into movement as well. Dave gets the idea pretty quickly, so Kurt encourages him further, taking one of his hands and lacing Dave's fingers forcefully through his hair. When Kurt takes his hand away Dave's remains and Kurt moans appreciatively at the tugging sensation. Dave has started up a litany of  _oh god, oh fuck_.

Kurt's frantically trying to get his own fly down so he can work his own cock. He's close as well, the slow build of thinking of this all day culminating in _now_. Dave's thighs are trembling as he thrusts into Kurt's mouth, hand clenching in Kurt's hair. Dave's added  _close, fuck, so close_  to his chanting and then with a gaspgrunt he's coming and Kurt is swallowing around him. Apparently he lacks total self-control because suddenly he's coming as well, in his half-undone pants, his already damp underwear now even damper.

His mind and body are both feeling decidedly gooey, but he doesn't have time to enjoy the feeling, he has another sensation, an unpleasant one, that's taken centre stage. He lets Dave's still reasonably hard cock slip from his mouth and pulls a face as he's sure he literally hears his underwear  _squelch._ He chances a look up and Dave is watching him carefully, looking slightly worried. Despite the… _underwear situation_ , Kurt looks up at him and smiles, although he's fairly certain it looks more like a grimace.

"What's wrong?" Dave asks, and Kurt looks away, definitely embarrassed, but also not sure what his response should be. He quickly decides for outright honesty, it's worked so far.

"I just…I just came in my pants like a fucking teenager," he mutters, still mortified and annoyed and Dave is laughing at him, a loud absolutely free and delighted laugh. A hand is reaching down and pulling Kurt up, and again he feels the head rush, this time coupled with the lethargy of post-orgasm.

Dave is kissing him again, slowly and thoroughly, as if he's trying to memorise Kurt's mouth from the inside out. Kurt doesn't think he's ever been kissed so thoroughly, and definitely not after giving a blowjob. Alex had always insisted on teeth brushing, and Kurt is all for oral hygiene, but it does ruin the mood.

"Come on,"  _kiss_  "order some food,"  _kiss_  "then you can have a shower,"  _kiss_  "while you wait,"  _kiss_.

"You going to join me?" Kurt asks, and Dave raises an eyebrow, but he's wearing this delighted grin that makes Kurt feel warm inside. Dave is nodding, trying to look put-out, letting out a mock long-suffering sigh, Kurt just pokes him in the stomach and grins back at him.

* * *

After ordering food they have a quick shower, and Dave is surprised that they both seem focussed on getting clean, rather than fooling around some more. Then again, they do have a far more limited time frame than this morning. He folds Kurt into one of the soft-fluffy hotel robes, pulling on the pair of sweatpants he's been using to sleep in. He makes himself comfortable on the bed and pats the bed beside him in invitation. Kurt lies beside him, head propped up on a hand as he looks at Dave. He looks like he's trying to figure something out.

"What?" Dave asks finally, sick of trying to guess at what Kurt might be thinking.

"I kind of thought you were Jewish," Kurt remarks.

"I kind of am…" he replies slowly, wondering where Kurt could possibly be going with this, or where it has come from. Then he realises and feels like an idiot. "Oh, did you think I'd be cut?"

Kurt nods, still watching, and clearly either curious or genuinely interested. Either way, it's no big secret. Dave shrugs.

"My dad's Jewish, but he doesn't practise. My mom is... well, she's definitely not religious at all, plus she's a doctor. So apparently when dad broached the whole circumcision thing she pulled the whole  _over my dead body_  card. She said it should be my choice and that if, when I was older, I wanted to be a practising Jew, I could get it done and it would be my choice. Wasn't important enough for dad to stick to his guns so he agreed."

"I like your mom. She sounds like a rational woman."

"My dad's parents would have disagreed with you. The things they used to say about her when they thought I wasn't listening or paying attention…"

"What didn't they like about her?"

"Everything pretty much. My dad's parents were very old-fashioned. My mom was too young, she had a career, didn't parent me the right way…they died when I was a teenager, and it sounds bad, but I'm glad I never had to come out to them. They'd have gotten all disappointed and sad, and that's the best case scenario. On the flipside, my mom's parents think I'm the best grandson ever. Of course, I'm their only grandchild, so it's not like they have a lot of comparisons to draw upon."

"Are they still alive?"

"Yep, they're a riot, the type of people who seem to get younger as they age. They drive my mom completely mad. What about you?" Dave asks, feeling like he's monopolising the conversation, despite the fact that Kurt is the one asking him the questions.

"They've all died. My mom's mom was my last grandparent and she died about eight years ago. It was a bit like losing my mom all over again."

Dave reaches for Kurt's hand and just squeezes, not sure he can say anything right now without sounding like an idiot. He doesn't know what to say, so silence is going to be his friend.

"Well that effectively killed the mood," Kurt says and Dave silently agrees. If he hadn't just taken part in the conversation he'd never have believed they could have gone from talking about his cock, to religion, to dead relatives. The knock on the door couldn't be better timed and they exchange a rueful look.

* * *

Food eaten and plates tidied away they're back on the bed, Dave lying propped up on the majority of the pillows, and Kurt has made himself comfortable on his side, head resting on Dave's shoulder and Dave's arm draped around him casually. Kurt's running fingers idly through the hair on Dave's chest. Dave seems to be watching two movies at once, flicking between them at random intervals that Kurt can't make sense of. His eyes aren't on the TV, instead he's watching Dave's tattoo, the muscle and skin beneath flexing ever so slightly when he changes the channel. Kurt has to admit it to himself he's fascinated by the darkened piece of skin.

He's been playing a word game, trying to make a word with the five letters. Lurcs. Scurl. Cruls. Slurc. Curls. The last is the only one that makes sense, and it fits with the curled tree trunk and branches. Studying the design Kurt's pretty sure that on paper it would look far too…  _feminine_ ; to be a tattoo most guys would choose. On Dave's inner bicep, a muscle Kurt isn't sure both his hands would stretch around, it looks…well, anything but feminine.

Kurt really wants to reach out and touch it. He also wants to know what it means. The two wants are tugging at him, and his hand is moving, seemingly of its own volition and he's stroking feather light other the ink-marked skin. Dave's arm twitches at the feather-light touch, and Kurt can feel his eyes on him. He looks up to meet the gaze before looking back at the tattoo.

"What does it mean?" Kurt asks, and he feels Dave's body tense.

"A variety of things," Dave replies, and he shrugs and Kurt can tell he's avoiding the question.

"You don't have to tell me, I was just…"  _Dying of curiosity_  is what he wants to say, but he's just realised that it's clearly a deeply personal thing, and just because they have this  _thing,_  it doesn't give him any right to the knowledge.

Dave hasn't held anything back from him so far that he knows about, so this… this is something significant. Meaningful. And they are still…not together. At least not on any deep emotional level. When Kurt considers that fact he's suddenly glad that this time tomorrow there will be a vast distance between them, because he knows he could honestly fall head-over-heels in love with this man. However he's serious about his commitment to himself, and the distance between them will help him focus.

"I'll tell you what it means, just…not why I got it. Not yet and not now okay?" Dave says suddenly, and Kurt nods slowly, trying not to appear eager, because Dave's voice is low and gravelly and  _pained_. His stomach clenches a little bit that he's maybe causing the pain, even indirectly.

"It's a tree, bending in half, bent so far it should have broken, but… there's a saying or something," Dave says, shrugging again, and Kurt has some inkling in his mind of what he is talking about. He keeps quiet, fairly certain that Dave isn't finished. "Something about an oak tree breaking in a strong wind because it's too stuck in its way to bend, unlike a willow tree, which bends with the wind, you know? Anyway, here a curl is a straight line that has curled under pressure, but not been broken…"

"Is that why the letters spell out curls?"

"You've really been studying it," Dave comments, glancing down at him and Kurt nods in agreement. He's now wondering if the individual letters mean something, because why would they be out-of-order otherwise?

"What do the letters stand for?" Kurt asks, his voice deliberately soft and quiet, trying to indicate to Dave that he doesn't have to answer.

"What makes you think they stand for anything?" Dave responds and Kurt wants to give him his best  _'bitch, please_ ' look, but it seems like an automatic defensive reaction, and if Dave really doesn't want to tell him, he won't.

"If it was just the word curls then why isn't it spelt that way?"

"No, you're right. The letters do stand for words, it's just…don't laugh okay?"

Kurt thinks the last thing he feels like doing right now is laugh, but he nods his agreement.

"Love, Understanding, Resilience, Courage and Strength. Or Sincerity if you ask Karen," Dave says, listing the words.

"Courage? Really?"

" _That's_  the word you're focussing on?"

"Erg. Me and that word have a history," Kurt replies, thinking back to high school and that unpleasant time in his life. He doesn't want to bring it up, not the word, and not Blaine, and definitely not Dave's part in it all. Dave seems to pick up on his discomfit and drops the subject. Now that his curiosity is assuaged he relaxes and falls asleep while Dave flicks between channels.

* * *

The next morning Dave wakes first again, and the first thing he notices is Kurt's erection pressed up against his thigh to which Kurt has pretty much clamped his leg around. He's not moving, and Dave knows he's still asleep, because he doubts Kurt would pretend to drool just to perpetrate a lie. The fact that he has a sleeping  _naked_ aroused Kurt in his bed elects the same natural reaction as yesterday, his own cock fills and this time Dave does nothing to stop it, desperately glad that he'd decided to forgo the pants once he'd eventually decided to sleep.

He wants nothing more than to work Kurt open with his tongue and fingers and then slide into him. He's  _burning_  with that want. But the old part of him, the one that is sitting in the corner of his mind, arms crossed and looking worried, is telling him he should wait. Wait until Kurt feels the same way, or at least until he admits that what they're doing is actually a relationship, despite how Kurt might be justifying it to himself for the time being.

Dave can't help but listen to this old part, in spite of how much he wants, and despite how much Kurt appears to want it as well. So he's going to hold this part of himself back. Surprisingly he feels himself relax now that he's consciously made that decision, and he realises he's actually truly been worried, trying to placate two different sides of himself.

He works his cock with his hand slowly, taking his time, not knowing yet what he wants to do this morning, other than involve orgasms in some way. Kurt looks more rested again this morning, and much younger in sleep, relaxed. He presses a kiss to Kurt's forehead, not caring about waking him so much this morning. Kurt thrusts against him in his sleep and Dave can't help but grin.

"I want to watch you come," Dave whispers, and Kurt's eyes blink open. Dave rolls onto his side, holding Kurt close with his left arm, but his right hand doesn't move from his cock. Kurt's eyes are closed again, but he's smiling, and he thrusts against Dave's hand. Dave takes the not-so-subtle hint and grasps both their cocks in his hand. Kurt is watching him now, eyes still sleepy but definitely alert, and  _definitely_  okay with what Dave is doing.

"I'm going to watch you do this to yourself next time. I want to know what you like to do to yourself," Dave says, and his voice sounds foreign to his own ears, rougher and deeper than normal.

"Fuck  _yes_ …" Kurt moans in response and Dave can't help but grin in satisfaction. He alters his grip, using the pre-come Kurt is leaking as a lubricant. The feel of Kurt's erection held so firmly against his own is going to drive him over the edge, but Kurt's thrusting body and muttered curses are going to get him there so much faster.

He's trying to hold himself as still as possible, allowing his hand and wrist to do all the work. The way Kurt is moving against him makes it feel as if he's trying to climb inside Dave's skin, so Dave increases the speed and pressure and Kurt lets out a long drawn out ' _yeeessss_ '. Dave knows he won't be able to see Kurt come, their cocks obstructed by how closely their bodies are pushed together, but he can watch Kurt's face.

As if he's read Dave's mind and doesn't want Dave to see him Kurt burrows his head into Dave's neck, tongue darting out to lick there and Dave jolts in surprise.

"Close. So  _close_ … god,  _please_ …"

"Bite me," Dave orders and Kurt doesn't even hesitate before his teeth are sinking into the flesh between Dave's neck and shoulder. Dave shudders, hand moving frantically and almost erratically on their cocks.

When he feels Kurt's teeth dig deeper and the sudden hot wetness coating his hand he lets go, coming with a muffled groan. He loosens his grip slightly, knowing their cocks are going to feel bruised at the rough treatment he's just given them. But he's not complaining. He raises his come covered hand to his mouth and takes an experimental swipe with his tongue.

Kurt is watching him and appreciates the sight, if his moan is anything to go by. He tugs Dave's hand to his own mouth and sucks each finger clean, making Dave groan in response.

"You are so fucking sexy. If only I could wake up that way every day…" Kurt says, and he's smiling appreciatively at Dave.

"Must have been a nice dream you were having, definitely inspired me," Dave replies, feeling decidedly smug.

"Hmm, well, you were a star in that too…" Kurt says, and his voice is quiet and he looks a bit embarrassed, and Dave doesn't want that.

"You'll have to share it with me sometime…" he says, and he kisses Kurt languidly, enjoying the sensation, but also being hit with the reality that every day isn't on the books for them, not unless there's a drastic change in either of their lives. He decides to ignore the melancholy for now; he'll have plenty of time to dwell on it when he's alone in Chicago.

"When's your flight?" Kurt asks, again as if he knows what Dave is thinking.

"Around lunch time. Santana wants to get back earlier so she can actually enjoy some time with Kate. How about you?"

"Tonight. Mercedes wanted to ensure she got to spend some time with just me. I think Mike is going back on the same flight as you though."

Dave wonders briefly whether he should mention the conversation he had with Mercedes yesterday, but then decides against it, Kurt has either spoken to Mercedes already, or will be today, and he doesn't want to muddy the waters by talking about their non-relationship status.

* * *

"You enjoy your weekend?" Santana asks, and the tone of her voice has Dave's eyes flying to meet hers. She's casually flicking through a magazine and her face is carefully blank but Dave knows she's either picked up on something, or Mercedes has told her.

"It was better than I expected," Dave replies and catches her lightening quick smirk of amusement and muttered  _I bet it was_. "Who told you?" He asks, letting out a long sigh. She's never going to let him hear the end of this.

"Who says anyone has to tell me anything?" Santana replies, and she  _looks_  completely innocent, an act Dave knows can be completely faked.

"How did you figure it out then?" Dave asks, and he  _is_  curious.

"Yesterday morning at breakfast, the way you two looked at each other, and then avoided looking at each other. But want to know what my biggest clue was that you were fucking each other's brain out?"

Dave doesn't bother pointing out that they haven't actually  _fucked_  per se, she won't believe him anyway, and what Kurt and him are doing is still clearly a sexual relationship, so there's no real reason to deny and try and call it something else.

"What?" Dave asks, resigned.

"When he turned up to the table, not only as if he knew you'd be there, but you then asked him if he felt better, and he  _blushed_. He does blush easily doesn't he?"

"Oh god…yeah. He does. Do you think anyone else noticed?"

"Apart from Mercedes? No. Maybe Blaine. They both seem to know Kurt pretty well. You're paying me back for the flights and accommodation now I hope you realise. Getting you laid definitely works in my favour," Santana states, and Dave knows she's joking. Probably. Although he's pay the costs ten times over if it meant he got to spend the weekend with Kurt again. Fuck. He's so screwed.

* * *

"You have anything you want to tell me?" Mercedes asks, and Kurt freezes. He hasn't heard  _that_  tone of voice in  _ages_ ; she's pissed at him and he has no idea why.

"Um…yes?" he ventures, trying to frantically think of what she might already know that she should have found out from him first.  _Oh fuck_. Dave. That's the only thing he can think of, but he has no idea how Mercedes would have found out, unless Dave told Mike. However he's pretty sure Dave would have told him he was going to be telling his best friend.  _Fuck_. He decides to try the avoidance and collection method of plausible deniability, figure out exactly what she knows before he starts talking about things which he might not  _actually_  need to talk about.

"I'm really sorry I didn't tell you… I just, wanted to keep it to myself for a bit. Figure it out," Kurt explains, hoping that makes sense to whatever she thinks he's not told her. "How did you find out?"

"How? When I saw you leaving his room yesterday morning! And  _again_  this morning!" Mercedes says, the volume of her voice increasing and Kurt is glad that the airport lounge is virtually empty. He can't deny anything; Mercedes would know instantly, he probably wouldn't even need to open his mouth before she called bullshit. She knows him too well.

"Why didn't you tell me? I gave you all day yesterday, and today!" Her voice is indignant

"Um, you don't mind that I'm…with Dave?" Kurt asks, and he has no idea of another way to put it. Trying to explain what Dave and he have agreed upon to an outside party is just…too complicated, so straight-forward and over-simplified it is.

"No. As I said to him, you're two grownups; you can decide what's best for you. I just… I would hate either of you to get hurt."

"We've both got our eyes open going into this – wait, you spoke to Dave?"

"Yes. Yesterday. He's a really sweet guy now Kurt."

"I…he didn't mention it. But yeah, he's…he's something special huh?"

"Yeah, he is. I just… I worry for you. Both of you actually. Long distance is hard."

Kurt hasn't actually thought about it, but now that he is, he's realised Dave has left and they've made no mention of a next time. And he needs there to be a next time, even if it is months away.

"We have our own lives to live, but there's Thanksgiving, and Christmas, then New Year's… We're a work in progress, we'll make mistakes but hopefully learn from them. Look at it this way; you're probably going to be seeing a lot more of me."

Mercedes grins widely and hugs him fiercely and Kurt is glad he has this wonderful woman in his corner. And the term  _work in progress_ , well, he decides that it fits how he's feeling about himself just as much as the non-relationship thing he has with Dave.

TBC...

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, plethora of OCs here – mostly Dave's family, whom he loves dearly, but which may likely drive him to drink several times this holiday period. Thanks to Debraelq for answering all my questions about Thanksgiving, hopefully I don't warp them too much next chapter! 
> 
> Erm, despite my lack of disclaimers at the beginning of the last few chapters I do not suddenly own Glee. Nor do I own Sandy Powell, who is a real person who I have never met, but she is an award winning costume designer and Kurt's original mentor.

**NOVEMBER 2025 – part one**

Dave hadn't planned on going back to Lima for Thanksgiving, mainly because his parents had had plans to come and stay with him for four days. However when his sister Pat rang him to ask if he minded if they all went to Lima instead, he'd agreed. Mainly because he can't remember the last time his dad has had all his kids and grandchildren in one place, but also because Pat and Jen seem to be planning something ridiculously big, and for once they're leaving him out of the loop. They of course think they're being incredibly subtle, which Dave equates to neon-camouflage gear.

He really can't bring himself to care or wonder what they're up to, because he's going to be seeing Kurt soon. Hopefully. Kurt had asked via text message a week ago if he was going to be in Lima for the holiday, and he'd been able to answer yes. That's been the limit of their contact all month, four text messages, with Dave's text asking if Kurt will be in Lima answered with a simple ' _yes_ '. He's not sure what to make of the lack of contact. He knows he could have rung Kurt any number of times, but he's trying to mindful of the fact that Kurt is trying to figure himself out, and wants space. Anyway, Kurt is just as capable of ringing him.

He'd briefly considered undertaking the five hour drive back to Lima, but after agreeing to take his four-year old nephew with him, (which would apparently make the drive at least two hours longer but also make it seem double that again according to his sister Jen), he's decided to fly and rent a car at the other end.

He's learnt the hard way that holidays at home with no transport make him feel too much like a teenager again, particularly when he has to ask to borrow his dad's car. And he wants the freedom to see Kurt, needs to be able to grab keys and just  _go_ , not answer questions about where he's going and when will he be home.

So he's packed, double checked he's got his favourite jeans, misplaced his phone, unpacked to make sure it's not there, repacked after finding his phone in the fruit bowl of all places, and he's now trying to fall asleep. He's trying every relaxation and meditative technique he knows, but it feels like a lost cause, mind and body both wound too tightly to relax. He gives it up for a bad job and decides to go for a late night run.

* * *

Kurt's determined to relax this weekend. He's not going to check his e-mails and he's set his phone so that all numbers classed as work related go automatically to voicemail. Sandy does have his dad's number, but she seems to have accepted his new work attitude with a smile and understanding nod, muttering something along the lines of it being about time he got a life. Kurt thinks that's pretty rich coming from her.

He's got an intern, Vicky, a bright bubbly girl who seems much too young and reminds him all too much of Rachel Berry ten years ago. He's left her in charge for the afternoon, with strict instructions that she's to ring Sandy if there's an emergency. Sandy will act as gatekeeper, especially considering that Vicky seems to class the local coffee shop running out of his favourite flavour syrup to be an emergency worthy of tears. Despite her overly emotional state she's a hard worker, eager to learn, and honestly appreciative to be working with Sandy Powell and himself, once she got over her initial awe.

He's an hour through the flight back to Lima, and he's looking forward to being home, enjoying his father's quiet surprise when Kurt told him he was coming home for the holiday. He hasn't been home for Thanksgiving in six years. Too long. He always made time for Christmas, but he's made the sobering realisation that his father won't be around forever, and spending time with his family should be a higher priority. Work will always be there, his family won't.

With that in mind he's taken to ringing Finn every ten days or so, just to talk to him, much to Finn's initial confusion. Kurt tells him about crazy work stuff, and crazier things he has seen around LA, and Finn talks about the garage, or his kids, or some game which Kurt has no real interest in but listens anyway. He also rings his dad, rather than e-mail. Burt talks about having grandkids, who he clearly loves, and how Finn annoys him in the garage even if he is good at it, how Carol is trying to all these new foods.

He's also trying to build up his friendship with Blaine, but has discovered that it's almost become like an unspoken competition between them, one Kurt isn't taking part in; but in which Blaine always seems to be trying to one-up everything Kurt says and does. It's tiring, so he's considering just letting their friendship languish back into old-friend-status where they see each other once or twice a year, but hardly ever talk. They're meeting for dinner tonight, before Blaine heads home to his parents place, and Kurt's already considered cancelling it twice. But he's going to see how it goes.

When the aeroplane starts to descend Kurt rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck and legs, waiting for the ear-popping sensation and mentally preparing for the much cooler temperatures Ohio has to offer. He's been avoiding thoughts of Dave, because every time he does think of him he has to fight the urge to just jump on a plane and go visit him. Now though, he is on a plane, maybe not with the sole purpose of going to see Dave, but definitely flying with the intention that he will see Dave in the next few days.

* * *

Never again, Dave decides, as Kadin sits beside him, finally asleep. He's apologised to the person in front for the numerous kicks to the back of their seat, apologised to the person sitting opposite him in the aisle for the spilt drink, and he's apologised to the air stewardess for the excited toddler running up and down the aisle squealing. He's feeling like he should have a got a t-shirt printed with ' _I'm sorry'_  on the front, for the number of times he's said it already today. Or alternatively ' _It's not actually mine_.' No wonder Jen didn't want to travel with him, he's no longer the quiet sweet natured toddler, but has become demon-spawn in the space of a few minutes. Dave's exhausted, and he isn't even in Lima yet. Kadin stirs against him and blinks up at him sleepily.

"Are we there yet?"

"No, we're not buddy. But if you look out the window you'll be able to see some clouds. We'll be there in about ten minutes," Dave says, avoiding the word ' _soon_ ' because children just don't seem to have a grasp of that concept. Kadin stares out the window for a few minutes, which is longer than Dave thought he'd last.

"I'm feeling dry heated Uncle Davey, can I have a drink?"

"Dry heated huh? I think you mean dehydrated," Dave corrects gently, rustling through the bag he's bought on board for the bottle of water he's purchased.

"That's what I said. Juice?"

"No, you can have some water or some milk. Do you want a snack?"

Kadin pouts for all of a few seconds before happily accepting the apple slices and bottle of water from him. Dave watches with baited breath, but it seems like his nephew is no longer possessed. He relaxes and pulls out colouring books and a Magna Doodle and hopes that time passes quickly and with no reappearance of his nephew's evil twin.

* * *

Kurt collects his luggage and heads to the hire car counter. He sees a man he would swear was Dave walking away from the car pickup counter in the opposite direction, his head bent as he talks to the small child in his arms. That effectively dispels the illusion that it could possibly be Dave. Kurt shakes his head ruefully, feeling a bit foolish for seeing Dave in complete strangers.

After calling his dad and confirmed that he's landed, made the obligatory promise to drive safely, he makes the drive into Lima from the County Allen airport. He notes the encroaching suburbs as Lima has grown, the shops that have shut down with new ones replacing them. He always feels a bit distant when he comes back to Lima, like everything has changed, when nothing really has. It usually takes him a day or two to completely get over the sensation of feeling like a visitor.

However he still feels a sense of homecoming as he drives down the familiar roads and streets. It's only just gone two, and it's a clear sunny day, and except for the fact that Kurt knows it is only a few degrees above freezing he'd think it was a summer day. When he pulls into the driveway he can't stop the smile from appearing on his face. It feels good to be home, and his dad is standing in the kitchen, looking out at him, and smiling back.

* * *

Dave hears his name being called but can't see anyone he recognises when he turns around. He's scanning the street, but everyone is bundled up against the cold, so identification is nearly impossible. Then he spots a waving hand and then Azimio Adams is walking briskly towards him.

Dave is surprised, because Az pretty much wasn't interested in remaining friends when he came out to him fourteen years ago. Back than Dave hadn't been surprised at his response, had been expecting it really, but it had still hurt, letting go of a friend. They've seen each other around. Whenever Dave is back in Lima they seem to bump into each other and are always polite, but this is the first time Az has actively sought him out.

"Dave! Hey man, I thought it was you…"

"Hey…" Dave replies, and he feels a little weirded out by this smiley friendly version of Azimio. "Yeah, back in town for the weekend you know…"

"Cool. That's cool. Do you have time for a drink? Catch-up?"

"Uh. Yeah. I…yeah. Okay. Where?"

"Cookies? That Belgian beer place, you know it?"

Dave nods, still feeling weird.

"Great. I have to go back and shut up the shop, but I'll see you in there okay?"

Dave nods again, starting to feel a bit stupid with his nodding and incomplete barely coherent sentences. Azimio turns and ambles back to the sporting goods store he manages and Dave watches him for a few seconds before turning and heading down to Cookies.

Dave enters the bar, it's generally a quiet place during the day, aiming for the workday lunch crowd. Dave's eaten here before, and while he's never been to Belgium, the food tastes pretty authentic. He takes a small corner table facing the door and places a drink order as well as ordering a bowl of their signature circular potato fries.

It's not long before Az enters the bar, spots him and heads over. He lowers himself into the chair opposite and places his order with the hovering waitress. It's three in the afternoon, and business is obviously slow, most people with more important things to do before the holiday.

"So, how have you been?" Dave asks, although his dad has kept him informed about Az as well, not knowing that they haven't really spoken properly since high school.

"Good. I'm the manager at SportZown now. AJ's in high school now, which is scary shit man…"

Dave smiles. AJ is Az's son, and he'd be nearly fifteen now, the result of a teenage pregnancy, Azimio and his then girlfriend too busy screwing to pay enough attention in sex-ed classes, or the fate of Quinn Fabray. Fortunately for them both their families were supportive, particularly Azimio's, his mother rather ecstatic about becoming a grandmother. Az has gone quiet, and he's studying Dave quietly, suddenly tense, and Dave doesn't know if it's because of him, or talking about his son or what.

"You…seeing anyone?" Az asks, and Dave can feel the tension rolling off him, and he's shocked Az is even asking. He doesn't want to mention Kurt, he doesn't want to mention anyone, so he decides to play it light in an attempt to break the tension.

"Mr Palm and his five sons," Dave says, waving his hand in the air to drive his point home, and yeah, he feels a bit cruel, but he's pretty sure Azimio has an ulterior motive behind inviting him out. He's suddenly filled with icy foreboding.  _Crap_. He should have mentioned a boyfriend, anyone,  _fuck_ , anything to stop his ex-best friend proposition him.

"Dude, I  _didn't_  need to know that…" and the eye roll he gives Dave reminds him so much of their high school selves that Dave relaxes ever so slightly. So he's wrong, he's not about to be propositioned, which is such a fucking relief he relaxes even further. It's eased the tension though, which has to be good.

"Sorry man, let's just leave that part of my life out of the conversation shall we?" Dave asks before taking a sip of some dark beer served in a thick-glassed almost-wine-glass.

"Uh, actually…I kind of want to know. Are you happy? With your life I mean?"

Dave frowns, this has suddenly gone from a meaningless chat between old friends to something much more serious. He recognises the intensity on Az's face, it's not just curiosity, he  _needs_  to know.

"Yeah. I'm very happy. I have a great family, awesome friends. A job I love and get huge amounts of satisfaction from…I really like my life, there's nothing I would really change about it."

"But what about relationships. You been in a serious relationship?"

Dave can't help but feel astounded at the direction the conversation has now taken. Az seems intent on knowing, despite how clearly uncomfortable the topic makes him feel.

"Why are you asking me this Az?"

"Just…humour me okay? Tell me, and then… I need to tell you something."

"Okay," Dave starts, wondering if maybe Azimio is about to come out to him, but he's going to remain calm and not jump to any conclusions. "I've only ever had serious relationships. Three of them, and… well, it's complicated. Some people would say I'm in the minority in the gay community, but I know plenty of stable committed monogamous couples.

"Holy shit man, you only been with three people?"

Dave ignores the lack of pronoun use but shakes his head, and holds up four fingers. Azimio is looking at him with googly eyes.

"Dude, I've been with more people than that."

"Az…you'd probably been with more than that by the time you finished high school," Dave replies, and he doesn't intend the words to be mean, but when he hears them he thinks that maybe he does sound a bit bitchy, even if that's not his intention. "Look man, being gay doesn't change who I am or what my values are. I need a connection with the person I'm with, it'd be the same if I was straight," Dave explains.

"Okay, yeah, that makes sense…" Az says, looking thoughtful.

"So, you wanted to tell me something?" Dave prompts after a moment of silence, and Azimio looks at him as if just remembering that he's there.

"Yeah, yeah I do. You know AJ?" Dave nods, and he  _knows_  now where this is heading. Why Az wants to talk to him. "Well, he spends most weekends with me, and anyway, a couple of weeks ago he comes home with this boy and I ask if he's a new friend, 'cause I haven't seen him before you know?" Az explains, and Dave is biting his lip to keep himself from either smiling or laughing, neither of which are appropriate responses right now.

"And you know what he says to me?  _No dad, this is my_ _ **boyfriend**_ , and he looks at me like I'm stupid. Like I'm somehow meant to know that shit. And then they disappear into his fucking room, close the door and I'm fucking standing there, no idea what to say or do…"

"Oh god…that's hilarious. Sorry man, but that's the best coming out story ever. What did you do?"

"Stop fucking laughing! It isn't funny man!" Az says, throwing a coaster at him.

"Yeah it is. What did you do?"

"I went and knocked on his door, opened it real quick like, but with my eyes closed, and all they're doing is reading my old comic books. Anyway, I told him no closed doors when it was just him and his boyfriend. And asked to be introduced.  _Jason_. Fuck man, that whole closed door shit never worked on me…"

"Comic books huh? They're probably getting different things from your comic books then you ever did…" Dave says, smiling into his drink, but knowing he's failing at not showing how amused he is by the whole situation.

" _That's_  what you focus on? Anyway, don't ruin that part of my childhood man…but he's almost fifteen! I remember what I was like when I was fifteen, all I thought about was sex. I couldn't control myself, how do two guys manage to… ugh, I don't even want to think about it."

"At least he can't get pregnant," Dave quips.

"That's not funny man," Azimio says, and all traces of humour are gone, and Dave swears under his breath. He really didn't mean it that way, but he seems to have developed a chronic case of foot-in-mouth.

"Dude, I didn't mean it like that, seriously I didn't. Sorry," Dave says, honestly apologetic. Teenage pregnancy will always be a sore point for Az. "Look, if you want I can talk to him. I'd want you there, because you need to know what I'm saying to him, but…"

"Would you really? I mean, I have no idea what to tell him. I just want him to be okay, you know?"

Dave's glad that Az is apparently the type of father much like his own, one who loves his children wholly and unconditionally. He sees too much of the opposite with his work, and he's suddenly filled with the need to reassure Az that he's done the right thing, is  _doing_  the right thing.

"He'll be okay. There's a massive point I think you're missing here," Dave starts, and Az is studying him intently, waiting for him to continue. "He's obviously very secure in the knowledge that you love him, and that nothing he says or does will stop you loving him. That's a good thing Az. It's a really good thing."

"You think so?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Good. It just…the whole thing, made me think about you, you know? Was your Dad okay with it?"

"Yeah. I was lucky. Like AJ is. Some parents can't deal with it. Put the importance of a book above their own kid, or just can't deal with it so pretend it doesn't exist…" Dave says, shrugs, and looks away. Az is looking pleased with himself, but then turns pensive.

"I just want to protect him, and this is just another thing that's going to single him out and make him different…" Azimio says, and Dave can almost hear the silent  _'you know?_ ' at the end, something Az always seemed to use when trying to drive his point across.

"There's nothing wrong with being different."

"Yeah.  _Now_. In high school? Do you remember the shit we used to give that Hummel guy?"

"Yeah. I remember," Dave replies, and his voice sounds short now. He'd rather not think about that period of his life. He knows he's changed, and obviously it doesn't bother Kurt. But he finds it still occasionally bothers him.

"You stopped picking on him. Was that because you were gay?"

Dave lets out a soft snort of bemusement.

"If only it were that simple. I was picking on him because  _I_ was gay. But even if I was straight, I'd probably have picked on him, just to go along with the crowd. I made the realisation that I didn't want to be remembered as a bully. Particularly by Kurt. Anyway, Santana was blackmailing me."  _She still bloody well blackmails me._

"What, so you never nailed her?"

"Az, what did I just say about me needing connection. You seriously think I had enough of a connection to sleep with Santana Lopez when I was seventeen?"

"Dude, we were seventeen. Connections-smections. Sex is sex. Wait, so you've never had sex with a chick? How do you know that you're gay then?"

"You ever had sex with a guy? How do you know you're not gay?" Dave responds quickly. He's heard that argument before. Azimio pulls a disgusted face and Dave raises an eyebrow. "I rest my case."

"Yeah yeah, we can stop talking about your sex life now."

"Good. I'm all for that. I have enough fucking friends who take too much interest in it as it is…" Dave says, although a bit of him wants to point out that Az is the one that kept on bringing it up in the first place.

"Fair enough. So, any ideas how I stop AJ being picked on?"

"You can't. The best you can do is give him the skills to cope with it. Make sure if it is happening he can talk to you about it. I'd say you need to make him feel loved and supported at home, but I think you've got that covered. If he is being bullied he'll need a safe space, and you just got to hope he'll talk to you."

"You sound like a shrink," Az states, and it's not derogatory, at least Dave doesn't think so, just matter-of-fact. He shrugs and takes another sip of his drink. "So you want to come round and watch the game tomorrow? You still like football right?"

"Fuck off Az," Dave says, but he knows they've turned a corner, even if it is fifteen years late and it's taken AJ to be the catalyst. "I still play football. Unlike you, you lazy arse." Azimio sneers at him, gives him the finger and then signals the waitress for another round of drinks.

* * *

The restaurant that used to be Breadstix is now a dedicated steak house, completely redone with a weird butcher-shop type theme which Kurt finds slightly macabre, being so clearly reminded of where the meat has come from. The food apparently is amazing though, and as long as it  _is_  amazing, then Kurt knows he will forgive what he considers to be a décor disaster. He's only been sitting at the table and taken the first sip of his water when Blaine joins him, sliding into the chair opposite after they've exchanged an obligatory hug.

He listens as Blaine complains about his flight, then goes on to talk about how great his job is now that he's been hired by a new theatre. He talks about going to see Rachel in her show, and the possible love interest he's found at his local coffee shop. Kurt listens, and listens, and listens. Now that's he's paying attention he realises that Blaine can be very self-centred. Something Kurt knows he can be just as guilty of, but Blaine hasn't even asked him how he is.

Kurt ponders on that fact, before realising if there was something wrong in his life, he'd have blurted it out and be talking about it the same way Blaine is now complaining about his little sister getting married in Hawaii in January. They're very similar, which is probably why he occasionally wants to thwack him on the head, and no doubt Blaine sometimes feels the same way about him.

Kurt's attention is drawn by a familiar laugh that he  _knows_  is Dave. God, if he gets this wrong as well he's going to consider getting his head seen to, his eyes flick to the restaurant door behind Blaine where a small group of people have entered and sure enough Dave is among them. Kurt's fairly certain that the two women of the group are Dave's sisters, and the two men are probably their husbands.

The hostess leads Dave and his sisters past their table, and as they walk past Kurt catches Dave's eye and smiles, feeling almost shy. He knows Blaine is watching him, eye shrewd, and Kurt ignores him. Dave smiles back at him, and it's a slow smile that morphs into the same broad grin which makes Kurt's stomach flip happily and smile even wider in return.

"There is definitely something going on between you two," Blaine states, and Kurt rolls his eyes, knowing that if he protests too much Blaine will see it as confirmation that there  _is_  something going on. "If there isn't, then you definitely both want there to be," he continues, and Kurt resists turning to watch Dave and instead focusses back on Blaine. Who is still frighteningly perceptive.

"You're right, we're carrying out a torrid love affair from our respective locations," Kurt says, and it's the first words he's spoken in a while, excluding placing his order with the waitress. Blaine shrugs good naturedly, even now he's pretty hard to ruffle. Kurt grins at him and they both crack up laughing.

* * *

Even though he knows that it's innocent, his gut had still clenched when he saw Kurt sitting at the table with Blaine, looking far healthier and vibrant than when he last saw him. When Kurt had looked up at him and smiled he'd felt a rush of warmth fill him and if he didn't know before he knows now, he's falling in love. If he hasn't already fallen. Which he suspects he has. Because if he were Blaine right now he'd be looking at Kurt and wondering why the hell he'd ever let him go.

"Friend of yours Davey?" Jen asks, poking Dave in the side, and Dave glares at her, his attention being drawn back to the table, where his sisters are both looking at him expectantly and their husbands both looking amused. He has a feeling that wasn't the first time she'd asked him that question.

"Yeah, I went to high school with one of them."

"Hmm. They make a cute couple," Jen opines and Dave rolls his eyes. She imagines every pair of guys she sees to be together romantically. He feels like introducing her to Finn and Puckerman just to see what she'd made of them.

"They aren't together. Just friends. But yes, they  _are_  both gay," Dave supplies, knowing she'd ask all those questions eventually anyway. She, along with Karen, have to be some of the nosiest people he knows. Although they both insist it is just curiosity.

"Really? They look close."

"They used to be together, back in high school."

"They were out in high school?" Jen asks, her voice is serious now, and Dave nods in answer both to the question and to the unspoken one in her eyes. Jen knows what happened in high school. She's the one he's always been closer to, and they've only built on that since Dave moved to Chicago. Dave meets her eyes with his, expression serious.

"The one with his back to us is Kurt, Mercedes' best friend."

"Mike's girlfriend?" Pat asks, and Dave isn't surprised. She's always liked Mike, made googly eyes at him simply because of his accent.

"Yeah, went to high school with her too. Small world huh?"

The others nod in agreement and Steve, Pat's husband, mentions something about some person and Dave zone's out. Jen scoots closer to him.

"You seem to know a lot about him. Now I mean," Jen says, her voice quiet. Dave gives her his best poker face, and then shrugs.

"He came to Chicago back in August to visit Mercedes and we ended up catching up a few times then. And again last month we were both in New York for Columbus weekend."

"Sounds like he's forgiven and forgotten…"

Dave remembers their toast to the shitty things they did as teenagers, with his secret toast to the hope that he's a better man now. He knows Kurt has forgiven him, but he sometimes struggles with  _why_  Kurt has forgiven him, when he can sometimes not forgive himself. He can only keep on trying. Smiling at that thought, he picks up his phone.

* * *

Ever since his Dad's heart attack and Finn's car accident Kurt doesn't turn his phone off. Ever. So when he feels his phone vibrate with the message tone he feels an instant flash of annoyance before remembering that all work numbers are currently blocked.

"It's probably my dad making sure I'm still alive," he says to Blaine, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Blaine nods solicitously and smiles as he waits for Kurt.

' _You look good. Really good. Would say something nasty & dirty but I don't think it's quite the right atmosphere.'_

Kurt coughs to cover his snort of laughter and fights his immediate impulse to turn and grin at Dave. Or poke his tongue out. Except Dave would probably make true with the nasty and dirty comments if he did that. He shuts the screen of his phone off and puts it face down on the table, and he can feel the heat in his cheeks.

"I take it that that wasn't your dad…" Blaine says, amusement all over his face. Kurt shakes his head, and he can't stop the smile on his face. "So, a mystery guy huh? You're not going to share details?"

For some reason he can't explain he doesn't want to share this with Blaine, and not only because he's been denying anything happening between himself and Dave. Blaine would offer his two cents, and Kurt doesn't want to hear it.

"It's complicated. But he's… pretty special. Just taking it slowly."

"You? Slowly?" Blaine raises an eyebrow and Kurt shrugs. He may have been a shy inexperienced virgin with Blaine, but he quickly found a level of confidence in his own sexuality pretty quickly and knows he pushed Blaine into trying everything under the sun, moon and stars. "Well, if he makes you look the best I've seen you in years then he must have something going for him," Blaine states, and he's watching Kurt carefully.

"Yeah, he's definitely got something going for him. I really like him."

"Good. That's good. I hope he knows how special you are. You deserve someone just as special," Blaine says, and he's so intense that Kurt has to duck his head in embarrassment. This is why he's still friends with Blaine.

* * *

Dave's suspicion that something was up with his sisters was spot on. It has only taken Pat two glasses of wine before she is whining and begging Jen to be able to tell him whatever big secret they've been keeping. Jen lets out a huff of mock-annoyance but nods at Pat. Dave feels like rolling his eyes at the melodrama.

"We're moving to Lima!"

"What? Why would anyone move here?" Dave responds, and Jen kicks him in the leg for his trouble. Pat looks a bit put out and is scowling at him as well. Dave pulls a remorseful face, trying to pull off the  _dumb younger brother_  that's worked so well for him in the past.

Apparently Steve has a job at the Ford factory as a mechanical engineer. Dave's zoning out again, Pat obviously excited about the move, and Jen excited for her. He feels like a bad brother, but all he can think about is his disappointment that Kurt hasn't replied to his text message, and that disappointment has morphed into worry that maybe he's over stepped whatever imaginary line Kurt has drawn around their non-relationship. He doesn't think so, but it doesn't stop the worry either.

He notes Kurt and Blaine's departure with a sense of detachment and when his phone chimes he flicks it on, hopeful, but not actually expecting a response now that Kurt isn't even in the restaurant. But it is from him.

' _Last time we were in a restaurant together I got hard every time I looked at you. I think it's the perfect atmosphere._ '

Dave stares at the message in his hand, trying to think about the last time they were in a restaurant together, trying  _not_ to think about Kurt getting hard simply by looking at him. The things that that knowledge is doing to his ego, not to mention his dick. He remembers then. New York. Sunday afternoon.  _Fuck_. His phone chimes again and Jen has turned an enquiring head in his direction and he waves her off.

' _And now I am going home to jerk off to thoughts of that particular 24 hours and feel like a dirty nasty teenager because I'll be in my bedroom at my dad's house.'_

Dave bites back a groan, knowing he's being deliberately teased and having a love-hate response. If he were anywhere but at a dinner table with his two sisters and their husbands right now he'd be enjoying it, but as it stands…

' _Cocktease_ ' he sends back, and he's drumming his fingers on the table in his little nervous two-two-two-two way that causes Jen to slap her hand over his in annoyance. It still leaves his other hand free to read Kurt's response.

' _Not for too long I hope_.'

His groan this time is audible and Jen has grabbed his phone from him and is reading his messages, which is utterly mortifying, however she doesn't read them aloud, so he's thankful for small mercies. She's now looking at him with wide eyes, her expression torn between excitement and complete bafflement.

"Kurt Hummel? Really?" Jen asks, passing his phone back to him, and Dave knows he's going to have to give her an explanation. He won't get peace until he does. However there are much more preferable ways he'd be spending his time then trying to explain the intricacies of his relationship status with one Kurt Hummel. As much as he loves Jen, sometimes he really doesn't like her.

TBC...

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise if I get some things wrong - I have never experienced Thanksgiving (or an American Football game), and as wonderful and talented as Debraelq is, I can sometimes be an idiot, so all mistakes are mine (and I've never actually had time to give the poor woman a chance to beta, but all the same her help is greatly appreciated – most (if not all) the football talk is from her). Also, I have never tasted pumpkin pie, but am very curious as to the taste/texture/smell. Do you eat it cold or warm? (Christmas (which is when I might make one) is in summertime here, so would it work cold with ice-cream?)

 

**NOVEMBER 2025 – part two**

Jen sends in both Kadin and Kruze in to his room to wake him at seven. Fortunately Dave's already awake when he hears her not so whispered instructions to her sons. She is of course standing in the doorway to his bedroom smirking at him and his hastily grabbed pillow that is covering his groin, as if she  _knows_  she's interrupted him in the middle of a leisurely  _cough_  release of tension. Her two children are crawling and bouncing on the airbed that has been put in his mom's home office for the duration of the long-weekend.

He knows he's just going to have to live with dis-satisfaction, calls for crepes by his young nephews no doubt waking everyone else in the house anyway. He makes a subtle ' _get out'_ gesture to Jen with his head and she cackles madly before calling the boys away down to the kitchen. The mood is totally gone, and he knows if he isn't down in the kitchen in five minutes he's only going to be interrupted again.

Dave dresses quickly, forgoing a shower for now because there are at least five other people who will want showers this morning, and when he gets in there he's going to make the most of the fact that it's the only lockable room in the whole damn house, and take his bloody time. He enters the kitchen in his jeans and t-shirt, and notes the almost full dining room table.

Jen, who seems to want to laugh every time she looks at him, is setting Kruze in a highchair, while Kadin is sitting patiently in a raised chair so he can no doubt watch Dave at work in the kitchen. His fifteen year old niece Sara is looking decidedly pissed-off, and her younger brother Matthew is reading a book at the table. For reasons that haven't yet been explained to him, Sara's best friend Zach has joined them for Thanksgiving, and he's watching Dave with an almost predatory stare which is disconcerting.

His mom comes in and gives him a hug from behind before pouring herself a coffee. Dave sets about making his crepe batter, and Pat works beside him making waffles. Steve is reading yesterday's paper, and his dad and Rob, Jen's husband, are talking about something business related. He works quickly, the smell of cooking food filling the kitchen and dining room. Pat is making bacon and sausages and a whole bunch of other food that she considers necessary. They only eat twice today as a general rule, the sheer amount of food makes eating more often than that excessive. Although grazing and picking at leftovers all day is also what happens.

He knows Pat is intending to do the majority of the cooking, which is fine with him. It makes a nice change, and she's a good cook, even if she tends to get stressed and then scream at everyone for not helping. Dave always offers, and she always turns him down, so he never feels bad when she has her meltdown. He's taken to telling her if she needs help to give him a shout. It's the best he can do.

Food is cooked, served and eaten, with the flow of conversation ebbing around the table. Sara is glaring at her parents, refusing to talk apparently, except to Zach, who she shares whispered conversations with while Zach shoots looks at him. Steve tries to talk to him at one point, and Dave tries his best to pay attention, but he zones out, but apparently still makes some appropriate noises that don't make him appear too rude for not actually paying any attention.

His mom and dad are holding hands at the table, a sight that never fails to make him smile. Jen has given up trying to control Kadin and Kruze and has let them go play in the lounge along with Rob to supervise. Matthew is still reading his book, and Dave feels a bit bad for him; at eleven he's so clearly in the middle with a fifteen-year-old sister, and then his four- and two-year-old cousins. Not that it seems to currently be bothering him.

Pat starts clearing the table and Dave stands to assist. The more help he gives her now, the longer he hopes he can delay her inevitable meltdown. After stacking the dishwasher and making sure that she doesn't need his help, Dave excuses himself to go and shower.

* * *

He doesn't waste any time, knowing that right now every second is both precious and crucial. He would have jerked off last night, but Jen and him had stayed up talking until one, so he'd fallen asleep instantly when he hit the airbed, not even mindful of the fact that his feet stuck out the end and got cold. He double checks that the door is  _definitely_  locked and blocks from his mind the fact that the house is filled to the brim with his family. They are easily banished by the thought of Kurt in a similar situation…

He can't help but let out a soft groan at the thought, and even though he knows the sound of the water will effectively hide any noise he makes, he feels like he's doing something completely taboo. He steps into the hot water, hand on his rapidly hardening dick, using some liquid soap to act as a lubricant.

He doesn't need any fantasies right now. Kurt's blatantly sexual response to his own teasing text message last night have made him feel more confident about the situation, despite their lack of contact in the last month. He knows they'll be seeing each other this holiday sometime, he just wishes he knew when. And how. And where. Just the simple knowledge that he will soon be with Kurt again, hand moving firmly on his cock as he remembers Kurt's responses the last time they were together.

His hand moves faster, mind whirling as he fills it with images of Kurt, both real and imagined. What they've done and what he's hoping they can do soon. _Fuck, let it be soon_. He bites into his forearm as he comes, effectively muffling himself and thankful for it. He stands there for a few moments, letting the water run over him, feeling the warmth that always follows post-orgasm, his whole body tingling with the pleasure of release. He's disrupted

"You going to be long in there?"

"Oh for…" Dave mutters, but decides to be glad that they didn't knock on the door just a few minutes ago. "Just a couple more minutes," he calls out and sets about quickly washing.

* * *

Kurt's shoes are filled with candy.

He's forgotten that it's one of Finn's weird Thanksgiving holiday traditions. Or rather Carol's tradition. Although he's fairly certain that Finn is of the opinion that no holiday can have too much candy. Kurt checks and sure enough even his new niece's tiny shoes have candy in them, which of course Finn will eat, seeing as she doesn't have anything but milk yet.

He's looking forward to spending time with them today. Crazy and all. Last night Kurt had excused himself from a family dinner, mainly because he wanted to catch up with Blaine, but also because it was Melanie's family and her parents are quietly homophobic. At least Kurt  _thinks_  so. They've never said anything to him, or to anyone in his family as far as he can tell, but they always make him feel like they're looking at a strange new species when they look at him. So he'd been glad when he had Blaine to use as an excuse to skip the first of a series of family meals.

He'll have to see them later, when they come around for lunch, but he's hoping he can sneak off and see Dave while his dad and Finn are distracted by football. That's the theory anyway. He knows Dave likes football, but he's pretty confident he can lure Dave away with offer of oral-assisted orgasms. He grins at the thought, and it's a bit ill-timed because both his dad and Carol smile back at him as he sits at the table. He's so glad that no-one can tell what he was thinking about.

Finn hasn't waited and is forking waffles, banana, bacon and maple syrup into his mouth as if the plate is about to be taken away from him. Both Carol and Melanie are looking at him with despair. Kurt piles his waffle with fresh berries, knowing Carol has bought them especially. Ryan is banging his plastic cutlery on his plastic plate, no doubt upset that he isn't being fed at the same rate as his father.

Kurt looks around at his family, it's just the seven of them for breakfast, and he's not sure whether a sleeping baby can count, seeing as she isn't even in the room, but he's happy he's here, enjoying Carol's admonishments to Finn and hearing them echoed by Melanie to Ryan. Finn and his dad talking about what games are on. He feels a bit disconnected, but he also knows that these people love him and accept him always.

* * *

After his shower Dave goes back down into the kitchen and the frosty silence when he enters is  _deafening_. He glances between his mom and Pat, who he knows have always struggled to get on, either because or despite of their only twelve year age difference. How they're going to cope suddenly living in the same town he has no idea. He suddenly very glad he lives in Chicago. He has no idea why they're glaring at each other and Pat is stuffing the turkey with such force he can't help but wince.

His phone chimes with a message and he quickly pulls it out of his pocket. It's a message from Jen, and he can't see her, but no doubt she'll know what's going on. She avoids the conflict, leaving it to Dave to deal with, because Pat would never forgive her for taking his mom's side, no matter how irrational she's being.

' _It's the great pumpkin pie standoff,'_  he reads, and he rolls his eyes. Every time they end up sharing a holiday it's the same freaking thing. Steve likes the homemade pumpkin pie that no doubt Pat has made and bought with them. His dad likes the store bought type, and not just because his mom can't cook to save herself and he's trying to save her feelings; he honestly prefers the store bought ones over homemade versions.

He's trying to decide whether to walk away and leave them to battle it out, or point out that there are seven adults and five children, two pies are going to get eaten, just like he told them last time. That and his dad likes to eat cold pumpkin pie for breakfast the next day so extra is always a necessity for his holiday enjoyment. He hears the doorbell and yells out a quick ' _I'll get it!'_  before grabbing both Steve and his dad and pulling them into the hallway.

"Look, go and tell your respective wives that you want their bloody pies. Dad, make sure you don't tell Pat her pie is too spicy for you, that's how Steve likes it. Steve, don't tell my mom that store bought tastes like plastic, it's my dad's favourite. Just go and make some peace between the women, I'm going to get the door!"

He leaves them with a stern look to go and deal with the drama in the kitchen and he is hoping that whoever is at the door can take him away from what is shaping up to be a potentially drama-filled day. Or add to it he realises when he opens the door to find his grandparents standing there, both grinning like fools and holding a pie.  _At least this one isn't pumpkin_.

"Grandy," he greets his grandmother, and he's suddenly feeling acutely embarrassed. He hasn't called her that in years, and it's a bastardised version of grandma and granny, neither of which he could apparently pronounce as a child. He generally calls her Noelle, her given name. A soft hand reaches up to pat him on the cheek.

"No young man for us to meet David?"

"Give the boy a break No-no," his grandfather instructs before shoving the pie at Dave. Dave accepts it with a grin. This will brighten up the holiday. For him at least. No doubt it's going to cause more drama between his mum and Pat, because Noelle is going to be in that kitchen and nothing is going to stop her. He's suddenly wishing he'd had the common sense to book into a hotel like they have, then at least he'd have somewhere to escape to.

"I'm just asking. I want my David to be happy."

"I'm perfectly happy Grandy," Dave says, and even though he feels stupid using his childhood name for her the wide grin he gets in return makes it worthwhile.

"Just keep it that way son. Now, you going to invite us in?" his grandfather asks and Dave takes a step back and opens the door wider. He gets a firm shoulder grasp from his grandfather as he passes by and Dave closes the door.

"Oh, there's a stand-off in the kitchen regarding pie. I'd avoid that territory until peace negotiations are done…"

His grandmother gives him a withering look and Dave shrugs internally, he's done his best to warn her. If she wants to go in there now she'll only have herself to blame if she gets caught in the cross-fire. He can hear yelling now, but it doesn't sound like his mom. His mom isn't the type to yell anyway, more the soft sigh and disappointed look type. He sees his parents beating a hasty retreat out of the kitchen towards them and he looks towards the direction of the kitchen.

It's Pat yelling alright, he recognises her meltdown tone, but quiet-calm- _boring_  Steve is also yelling, and then Sara's voice is screaming back. He doesn't need to listen closely, no doubt everyone in the house can hear Sara calling her parents all sorts of names, and it's blatantly clear that while Pat and Steve are happy and excited about their upcoming move to Lima, Sara is definitely not. The argument is suddenly truncated by a screamed  _'I hate you both!'_  and the violent slamming of the backdoor.

* * *

A pleading look from Pat has him following Sara outside a few minutes later. She's curled up on the porch swing with the blanket wrapped firmly around her. He huddles into his own jacket and wonders how the hell he drew the short straw to come out and talk to a screaming irrational teenager. He knows why of course, but it doesn't make him any happier about the fact. He's far too much of a softie sometimes.

Her face is red and wet and he knows she's been crying. He's not close to her, despite his efforts to try and get on with her the best he can. She's always made him feel a bit uncomfortable. He leans against the side of the house and looks out over the back garden.

"I don't want to talk. Especially to  _you_."

Dave shrugs, drawing upon his inner well of patience. He keeps quiet, knowing she'll most likely break and blurt it all out, or stomp away and leave him in peace. Win-win really. He can at least go back in and say he tried.

"I don't want to move to this stupid town. It's boring and small and I don't want to leave all my friends and my school and it's just  _not fair_!" She's glaring at him with a level of furiousness he hasn't seen in a long time, and he can't help but be secretly amused by it.

"Nope. It's not. Life sucks like that sometimes," Dave responds, and he's trying to decide between the tough-love approach or the cajoling compromise approach. "I know you probably haven't thought about it from their point of view, but your parents wouldn't be uprooting you and your brother if they didn't have to. They'll be leaving their friends as well. Your dad hasn't had a job in three months…he kind of needs one to keep you in clothes, and going to those piano lessons you love so much. Stuff like that…"

He knows it's a small guilt trip, but it also doesn't make it any less true. Sara is a pretty selfish teenager, and he knows she won't have considered the bigger picture. And neither Pat or Steve would have pointed these facts out to her, trying to protect her from the realities of the world. Dave thinks she needs the reality check. She's quiet, staring out at the frozen back garden, and a quick glance down at her tells him she's crying again.

"They love you, and want what's best for you…if they have to move to be able to do that, then that's what they will do, even if they have to make you unhappy in the short-term," Dave says, and he keeps his voice soft, not wanting to upset her further, but also wanting to drive the point home. Pat and Steve had been so excited last night, with the stress of unemployment gone from their lives.

"I didn't even know dad didn't have a job…" Sara whispers, and Dave's heart clenches. In his mind, she's old enough to have been told that. To be made aware of what they were facing as a family unit. How they've managed to hide it from her he's not sure.

"You guys need to sit down and talk. They do understand that you don't want to move, but they need to look at the bigger picture."

"The bigger picture sucks."

"Yeah, sometimes it does. But you'll make new friends. And you'll be able to visit. McKinley High is pretty cool. You go to any other high school and I'll have to disown you," Dave says, and he gets a small smile and she shuffles over on the swing to give him room to sit.

Once he's made himself comfortable and taken the corner of the proffered blanket she's like a burst water balloon, talking to him like he's her best friend. He learns about her boyfriend who she's having sex with, and fuck he hopes Pat has given her the safe-sex talk. He hears about how Zach has been living with them for the last three weeks since his parents kicked him out for being gay and Dave suddenly understands the predatory stare he was on the receiving end of an hour or so ago (and he hates to think how they've been coping feeding an extra mouth).

He learns how Matthew has been getting amazing grades at school and they are considering putting him up a year, but how she is struggling to pass. Dave listens, and he wonders when the last time Pat sat down and actually talked to her, because Sara seems almost starved for attention. He offers his opinion on coffee syrups, movies he's seen recently, and any other topic that Sara seems to want to talk about. She pauses for a moment, chewing on her top lip while studying him before asking him whether he likes being gay. He's not entirely shocked, but neither is he sure what she means. He shrugs.

"Do you like being white?" he replies, and he's trying to get her to think, and he can tell he's succeeded when she doesn't respond immediately.

"Yeah. No. Well, most of the time I like it I suppose. Sometimes I think it would be cool to be black or Asian though."

"But you can't change the way you were born."

"Huh. No. So…you like being gay most of the time?"

"I don't think about it now. It's just a part of who I am Sara," Dave says, and then decides that's a pretty piss-poor explanation after all the opening up she's just done. He decides on a whim to treat her to some of his deeper thoughts.

"Being gay is not my sole defining factor. I didn't used to be that way, when I was your age, a little older, I hated it, thought it would define me for the rest of my life and no one would ever be able to see past this ' _gay'_  label that I'd end up with. It took me a couple of years to realise that labels are what you make of them, and if no one could see past that one label then they'd miss out on all the other ones…"

"Like what?"

"Lots. But, good cook, police officer, friendly, football player…a hundred years ago you'd have had  _female_  as a label, telling you that you couldn't do certain things. They're very restrictive things, labels. Like judging books by their covers."

"So, labels are like, stereotypes?"

"Yeah. Exactly. There will always be people that fit the stereotype and generalisation, otherwise they wouldn't be called stereotypes and generalisations, but there will be far more people who don't. I'm not what people would consider stereotypically gay, but it doesn't make me any less gay."

"Oh. Right."

"You feel like going back inside? I'm starting to freeze," Dave suggests, hoping she says yes, because he is  _cold_ , his jacket not warm enough over just his t-shirt, and his feet were just shoved into his shoes with no socks.

" Yeah, okay. It's been nice talking Uncle Dave. Thanks. You're pretty cool you know?"

"I try," Dave replies sardonically, but he's glad that at least this piece of drama seems to have been dealt with.

* * *

Kurt closes his bedroom door. Carol has made it into a second guest room, which Kurt has no issue with, it means a queen-sized bed and a tastefully decorated room, if slightly too feminine for his tastes. More often than not his dad uses it as his den, making use of the large TV that is mounted on the wall. He goes and sits in the window seat, making himself comfortable for the following phone conversation. He slides his thumb across the screen and selects Dave's number from his contacts list.

"Hi," Dave greets before the third ring is complete, and the background noise almost drowns him out. Kurt figures everyone must be at Dave's parents place.

"Hi. Happy Thanksgiving," Kurt says, and he can't help but smile, it feels good to be talking to him.

"Yeah. Happy Thanksgiving. You having a good day?"

"Could be better…" Kurt says, and he hopes his implication is clear.

"You fu- funny guy. Let me just get out of the living room."

Kurt grins, waiting for Dave to speak again.

"Right, I'm out. What were you saying?"

"Just wondering what your plans are for this afternoon?"

"You want to meet up don't you?" Dave asks, and he sounds resigned, and Kurt feels a little jolt of worry-fear-annoyance. He's not really sure. Dave sounded glad to hear from him, but doesn't seem to want to meet up.

"Well, that was the plan…"

"I can't. Not today. I promised Az I'd come round and watch the game with him."

"I can't believe you're blowing me off for Azimio Adams and a football game," Kurt says, and he knows he sounds like a selfish jerk, but it's been over a month since he's seen Dave, because last night across a restaurant did  _not_  count.

"Yeah. I can't believe it either, but it's something I need to do," Dave says, and then he explains his reconnection with Azimio just yesterday, and how he wants Dave to talk to his gay son. Kurt decides that fate must like a sense of karma to make Azimio Adam's son gay. As much as he doesn't like it, he has to concede that his desire to spend time with Dave needs to be secondary in this case.

"So, when are you free?" Kurt asks, and he's starting to think that maybe they should have booked some time together, rather than playing it by ear, because at the rate they're going they're going to be in the same place for four days and not actually see each other. Which isn't okay.

"Not tonight. My grandparents arrived this morning and are going to want to do their whole board game competition tonight. And tomorrow I promised my sisters I'd look after their sons for the day. Fuck. What was I  _thinking_?"

"You obviously weren't. So. Tomorrow night then? Plans?"

"No. Tomorrow night I'm free. After dinner anyway. I'll be exhausted though, and probably rambling crazy. Think you can deal with that?"

"I can  _definitely_  deal with that. I'll have you anyway I can," Kurt says, and he didn't mean for it to come out as suggestive, but once he's said it he knows it is, and Dave's spluttered cough-laugh on the other end of the line indicate he's taken it that way. "I didn't actually mean it that way, but it doesn't make it any less true."

"You know you're going to kill me this holiday period right? A guy can only handle so much sexual frustration."

"I'm sure you're taking care of anything that arises," Kurt says, and he's feeling positively lecherous now, deliberately trying to think of things he can say that can be laden with innuendo.

"I would, if I was allowed some actual time and privacy."

"Oh, you poor thing. Stuck in a houseful of people. Must be torture."

"You have no idea," Dave says, and he actually sounds like he's undergone a morning of torture. "Remind me to book a hotel next time I come back to Lima."

"Is it honestly that bad?" Kurt asks, and he's curious. It had looked like Dave was pretty happy to be with his family last night.

"It has the potential to be absolutely catastrophic. I'll tell you about it tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night…" Kurt agrees, although he can't believe it's going to be another day and a half before he gets to see Dave, although considering it's already been a month he supposes another thirty-six hours isn't too long. He fully expects time to drag though.

"Where shall we meet up?" Dave asks, and that's when Kurt realises the problem. He can't bring Dave back to his dad's place, and he can't go back to Dave's parents place. It's like they're teenagers all over again. That hotel room idea is starting to sound like a  _brilliant_  idea, but of course they're all booked up now, and quite frankly the last time he was with Dave was in a hotel room. He doesn't want to make hotel rooms a common theme for when they meet up; just the idea of it makes him feel wrong somehow.

"Kurt? Where shall we meet?" Dave asks again.

"Uh, no idea. Name a place, I'll find it."

"Okay. You heard of Cookies? It's a bar."

"Yeah, dad and Finn have mentioned it. Apparently the fries are something special, according to Finn anyway," Kurt says.

"They're pretty good. So, after eight tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Kurt agrees, but his mind is trying to figure out what exactly they can get up to now that he's realised they have nowhere to go. He's sure he'll think of something. He hopes he thinks of something, because Dave is right, a guy can only handle so much sexual frustration.

* * *

Dave parks outside Azimio's small two-bedroom house and resists the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel. He can't believe he's here when he could be with Kurt. The only thing that is stopping him driving to where ever Kurt is, is the fact he isn't one hundred per cent sure where Burt Hummel and Carol Hudson live. Well, that and the fact that Burt Hummel still kind of scares him a little bit. He could look it up, but he knows not knowing is currently helping him fight the temptation.

His libido is making hip-thrusting movements towards his compassion, which is rolling its eyes in disgust. He needs to quieten his mind, because he has to talk to another teenager, and the last thing he needs is to be distracted by thoughts of Kurt, especially while hanging out with Az, who would give him endless amounts of shit if he knew. Maybe. He's not actually sure what his reaction would be. He gets out of the car and heads up to knock on the front door which opens quickly.

"Hey man, I was wondering if you were going to sit out there all day. Trouble?" Az asks and Dave shakes his head and then shrugs and then nods. "Like that huh?"

"Definitely. Really need a break from my life right now," Dave says, and it's just his family he needs a break from, and he's hoping his time with Az will help. "Family causing you grief?"

"Yeah, not intentionally though. Just normal stuff. Which is bad enough. I gotta say, I'm really looking forward to watching this game."

"Yeah, Packers playing the Steelers, gonna be good."

"Yep, makes who root for pretty easy," Dave replies and Az's face lights up.

"AJ made me this shirt last Christmas, I've got to show you."

Dave waits while Az disappears from the room, and he wonders where AJ is. Probably at his moms and being dropped around shortly. Dave knows Az's family have their Thanksgiving dinner in the evening. He has no idea what he's going to say to a kid he's never met before, let alone with Az sitting right there, no doubt looking uncomfortable the whole time.

Az comes back into the room and he's wearing a t-shirt with ' _I'm a fan of the Browns ... and any team playing the Steelers_ ' written across it. He grins, it pretty much fits what he knows of Az's loyalties when it comes to football. Along with the rest of Ohio.

The front door opens and a tall young man enters. He's clearly AJ, even if Dave had come across him in the street he'd have recognised him as Az's son. The eyes and ears look like a copy-paste job, but AJ is taller, his nose definitely from his mother's side of the family. He's lanky and a bit un-coordinated in the way some young men are who have suddenly grown a lot in a short space of time.

"Hey dad! Hey, you're wearing the shirt I made you. Cool."

"Hey buddy, have a good morning with your mom?"

"Meh. It was alright. Who are you?" He asks Dave.

"I'm Dave. A friend of your dad's from high school," Dave offers, and he has no idea how Az wants to broach this whole subject. He's clearly not told AJ why he's here. Probably hasn't had a chance. They have about thirty minutes before the game kicks off, which should be plenty to cover everything that Dave can think of.

"Dave's gay," Azimio blurts out and Dave turns to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Smooth Az, real smooth," Dave mutters, but he chances a quick look at AJ to find him studying him curiously. "Your dad thinks you might have some questions which he can't answer, so asked me to come talk to you."

"Um…were you guys really friends in high school?" AJ asks, and Dave knows this boy is no idiot. He might know his dad will love him regardless, but for his dad to suddenly produce a gay friend? Yeah, he'd be a bit suspicious too.

"Yeah, we played football together. I live in Chicago now. My parents live here though," Dave says, offering up the information freely, and it's the second time today he's opening up to a teenager. "I wasn't out in high school."

AJ asks some more questions, and Dave answers them honestly, and ignores Az as best he can.  _When did you come out? Why didn't you come out in high school? What do you do now? Do you have a boyfriend? When did you first have sex?_ Dave curtails the questions from delving too much into his private life, but uses them to start talking about safe sex and respecting not only your own body, but that of your partner.

Az disappears from the room for a while, Dave suspects it's probably for a stiff drink, and when Az walks back in on him explaining about oil based lubricants and how they can't be used with latex based condoms he swears his old friend goes grey. He can't help but be a little amused at Az's discomfit, it's a small price to pay for the number of times Dave pretended to admire some girl's rack, or leer over a playboy magazine when they were in high school.

He winds up the conversation, hoping that he's given him enough information to make an informed and safe decision. He gives AJ his card with his number and e-mail address, telling him he can ring or e-mail if he has any further questions, or questions he doesn't want to ask in front of his dad.

AJ shrugs and gives Az a look and a smile, telling Dave there is nothing he doesn't mind his dad knowing. Dave tells him that's great, but he might change his mind in a few years, and ignores the horrified look on Az's face as he realises he might be on the receiving end of hearing about his son's first sexual encounter. Dave decides to give the poor guy a break.

"I hear the Steelers' quarterback really sucks."

Az grabs the offering like a drowning man grabs a lifesaver.

"Yeah, he's thrown more interceptions than touchdowns. They'll have to rely on their running game."

"That should give Cleveland a chance this year... if we can stay ahead of Baltimore," Dave replies, and that's it, Az is turning the TV on and talking player stats and Dave settles himself into the couch, anticipating the next three hours of distraction where he doesn't need to think about his family, or Kurt, or anything else except football.

* * *

Kurt can't help but mope for a short while when he gets off the phone to Dave. He'd been looking forward to seeing him today, and he knows he should have realised that Dave would have other plans. He's that type of guy. Self-contained. Independent. He might  _want_  Kurt, but he doesn't  _need_  him. Kurt's only just starting to realise that this is a good thing.

He sends a quick text message to Mercedes, asking if she can talk. He knows if he doesn't get a response she's too busy meeting all of Mike's family and probably quietly freaking out that she is, in fact, meeting his  _family_. When his phone rings and vibrates in his hand he almost drops it in shock, completely unprepared for the incoming call.

"Hey, happy Thanksgiving," he says, and he settles himself back onto the window seat.

"Yeah, happy Thanksgiving. You know what I'm thankful for right now? You. You've just saved me from another three hours of football. I've already watched one game. That's pretty much my quota, and that's generally only if Mike is actually playing, because I like watching him run around and get all hot and sweaty…"

"I'm going to assume you aren't with the family right now," Kurt says, amused at her almost frantic conversation pace.

"Of course not, they're all watching the game. I'm in Mike's room. Or Duncan's. Whatever. Because you know something else? Mike's name isn't actually Mike, it's Duncan. I kept on wondering who his mom was talking to. She's the only one that calls him Duncan. Should I feel bad that I didn't know his real name?"

"Uh…" Kurt starts.

"It doesn't change who he is of course, but I just felt a bit weird that I didn't know that about him. You want to know why he goes by Mike?"

There's a brief pause, and Kurt wonders if the question is rhetorical or whether she is actually waiting for him to answer.

"He used to be teased in high school, because he was overweight. Got called Duncan Donuts. Erg, man kids can be  _mean_. Even his dad calls him Mike now, well, Michael, but still."

"Do you're getting on with the family okay then? No evil mother-in-law?" Kurt asks quickly when she takes a breath.

"Oh, they're all lovely. I like them. They seem to like me as well. But seriously, I should have known that any family that has welcomed Harry's level of craziness with open arms wouldn't have too many issues with me. I mean, I'm pretty normal. Aren't I?"

Kurt assures her of her normalness with a few well-placed  _ah ha_ 's and  _hmm_ s. Mercedes keeps on talking, detailing all of Mike's family in depth, which Kurt isn't really interested in, but listens and pays attention anyway. Mercedes is talking about Mike's Scottish grandmother, complaining that she can't understand a word the woman says to her, and she's not sure whether it's the accent, or the amount of alcohol she's been drinking.

"Anyway, Harry was melting marsh mallows in the microwave and spreading it on his turkey. Everyone else just nodded as if that was normal behaviour."

"Probably is for him," Kurt replies, and he's grinning. He likes the sound of Mike's family, they sound  _crazy_. Which will fit Mercedes, because she likes a certain level of drama in her life, otherwise he's sure she would have stopped being his friend years ago.

TBC...

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were bits that were meant to happen in the last chapter which I took out because it was just too long and ramble-y and I didn't like it, so I've shrinked them and/or made reference to them in here, because it needs to still have happened. This is all planned out now, and we're pretty much half-way now (assuming the next 4-5 'months' aren't all three parters). 
> 
> Anyway, WARNING all the way at the bottom for a particular sexual act if you want to be warned/spoiled.

 

**NOVEMBER 2025 – part three**

Kurt wakes slowly the next morning, he's managed to sleep in, which is rare. He's got no plans for the day, which means he's got all day to think about tonight and about seeing Dave, and planning what to wear with the very limited selection he's bought with him. He'd been tempted yesterday to offer his help, just so he had an excuse to spend time with Dave, but he's not great with kids. Well, apart from Ryan and Jamie he's not had any real experience with children, definitely not enough for their mothers to trust Kurt with them. Which is fine with him, they generally tend to make him nervous.

He heads downstairs to the kitchen. His dad is working, because cars apparently don't care about holidays, and Finn is looking after the kids because Melanie has to work and the day-care centre is closed today. He's not sure where Carol is, but there's no sign of her when he steps into the kitchen and flicks the switch on the coffee machine. While he waits for his coffee he hears rustling from the entryway and sticks his head around cautiously, fairly certain that in small sleepy little Lima he's safe from a serial killer. And he's right. It's Finn.

"Finn, those are  _my_ shoes you're eating out of," Kurt states, and Finn looks up at him guiltily, and Kurt can hear the rustle of candy wrappers as he hides more in his pockets. "I don't care you know, eat the whole lot."

His face brightens and Kurt shakes his head, there are just some things about Finn that will never change, and his relationship to candy is one of them. It's just as well he's had children, because now he actually has an excuse to play with toys and be a big kid the majority of the time. Actually, now that he thinks about it, it's far too quiet.

"Where are your children?" Kurt asks, hoping Finn hasn't forgotten them at home. Finn chews and swallows his mouthful of sugar.

"They're in the car."

"Finn! You can't just leave them in the car!"

"Why not? They're buckled in and stuff. And asleep. I was going to ask what you were doing today. Want to hang out?"

Kurt shrugs, he knows he's got nothing better to do, and actually having Finn and his children around will no doubt make time flow that little bit faster. He nods, suddenly a lot more sure. He instructs Finn to go and check on his children and then pour his coffee into a carry-cup when it is ready before running upstairs to have a quick shower and get dressed.

* * *

Dave helps Kadin and Kruze put on their jackets. Matthew is waiting patiently, nose still buried in his book. Dave can't remember him saying anything beyond  _'Hey Uncle Dave_ ' since he arrived, completely overshadowed by his older and much noisier sister. And her  _friend_. The same friend who had sat beside him at lunch yesterday and had repeatedly bumped Dave's leg with his own, left it there for a few seconds, leg moving against his ever so slightly, before drawing away. Dave had tried shuffling away, but Zach had shuffled after him. Dave wasn't stupid, he'd realised pretty quickly that he was suddenly the object of a crush. An inappropriate crush, but Zach was fairly harmless. Thing was, Dave wasn't sure whether to be flattered, because all he felt was distinctly uncomfortable. And infinitely glad that Sara and Zach were doing their own thing today.

He loads up Jen's car with the boys, his plan is to visit the indoor playground at the mall, have lunch and then take them ice skating before bringing them home in the hope that they'll be tired enough to watch a movie. Quietly. He's thinking that Matthew will happily spend a few hours in the bookstore at the mall, and Pat told him that he likes ice skating. He'll believe that when he sees it.

* * *

Kurt's waiting for Finn, absent mindedly pushing Imogen back and forth in her pram while Finn deals with whatever bathroom crisis Ryan is currently having. His eyes are unfocused, staring out over the food court of the mall towards the glaring-white of the skylights. They're here because Finn wants to do some early Christmas shopping while the Thanksgiving sales are on. The fact that the game shop had been their first stop was highly suspicious though, and Kurt's pretty sure that Finn has just bought a new game with no intention of either giving it away, or waiting until Christmas.

"Fancy seeing you here…"

Kurt turns towards the voice and Dave is standing there, and he looks  _good_. He's wearing what Kurt has come to consider his trademark jeans, and they cover his legs with tightness in all the right areas, a white collared shirt is covered by a dark green cable-knit sweater that just seems to emphasize the green in Dave's eyes. Kurt realises he's been staring, and he has no idea for how long. Long enough for Dave to notice. And be amused.

"Hi," Kurt says, and his voice sounds  _ridiculous_. All breathy like he's out-of-breath and run a marathon. Dave's smile widens even further and his eyes are crinkling and Kurt smiles back, because apparently he can't help but smile at Dave when he smiles at him that way. His attention snaps down to the pram, where a young boy is staring at Imogen with a scary level on intensity, before he fixates on flicking the sun-shade cover back and forth, causing Imogen to startle and then watch with a fixed stare.

"Yours?" Kurt asks, and Dave nods, and the smile doesn't leave his face.

"Kruze, my youngest nephew. Kadin is the one hiding behind me. This must be your niece…"

"Yep. Imogen. Finn's taken Ryan to the bathroom. How's your day going?" Kurt asks, and he feels a bit stupid making small talk when all he wants to do is reach for Dave and hold him, and kiss him and… well, other things that would definitely get him arrested for public indecency.

"My day's not going fast enough, but I can deal with it…" and Kurt  _knows_ what he means, Dave's eyes have grown darker and he's watching Kurt with carefully contained desire that sends shivers of anticipation prickling over his skin. They're staring at each other like they're the only people in the building and Kurt really wishes that were the case.

"Baby!" The high pitched exclamation interrupts them, and Kurt looks down at the toddler.

"Yeah, that's right Kruze, it's a baby," Dave says, kneeling down beside his nephew and his patience and love is clear to Kurt as Dave says some things to his nephew. Dave looks up and Kurt, quirking a playful eyebrow at his suggestive position. "My sister Jen is pregnant again, and Kruze is fascinated by the idea."

"Babies are icky," the older child informs Kurt, and he can't help but silently agree, but he's distracted by Dave laughing at the statement. He likes the sound, deep and rumbling and warm, and he can't believe he's standing in a fucking food court thinking poetic thoughts about David Karofsky's laugh. He's clearly losing his mind, but he really can't bring himself to care.

"Hey man, whose kids?" Finn asks, coming up beside Kurt.

"My sister's," Dave replies, standing up again. "We're about to have lunch, you guys want to join us?"

Finn agrees readily, Kurt knows he's never needed an excuse to eat, and it feels a bit surreal, pushing three small tables together so they can all sit together. Dave sits opposite him, a child either side, and Kurt's disappointed for all of a minute before he feels the warm press of a knee against his leg, he looks up and Dave is watching him and looking smug. He pushes back against Dave's knee slightly, and he can feel Dave's body heat through his jeans. They sit this way, fused together, while Dave sets out sandwiches and fruit for his nephews. Kurt had plans to go and get sushi, but now doesn't want to leave this tenuous physical connection he has right now. They've been in the same place now for forty-eight hours, and this is the closest they've been, which just feels  _wrong_ to Kurt.

At Finn's prompting he goes and gets his sushi, sliding back into his chair and resting his leg against Dave's again. Finn and Dave are talking about football, and Kurt zones out, focussing instead on the feel of Dave's leg against his. He watches Ryan and Kadin exchange sandwiches and a little while an older boy comes and sits at the table without saying anything but Dave's eyes flick to him, and then to Kurt and he gives Kurt a small smile. Kurt starts paying attention to the conversation again and they're talking about all going ice skating together. Something that Kurt is  _not_  okay with. He can't skate. And Finn is now regaling Dave with stories about the last time Kurt was on skates.  _Great_.

He tries his best to ignore the fact that Dave is effectively laughing at him, with Finn's stories becoming more and more elaborate and obviously fake. Kurt should know, he was there, and there was no way he got chased off the ice by a hockey team wearing Halloween costumes, it was one mascot practicing their routine, and he wasn't chased, he just left the ice as gracefully as he could, which was on his arse, scrabbling backwards and praying that his fingers weren't going to get sliced.

Kurt ignores them and gives Ryan a piece of California roll, which he promptly makes a complete mess of and starts playing with the seaweed. Kurt shrugs, he doesn't have to clean him up, and it serves Finn right for telling Dave outlandish stories about him that aren't even true. Dave's phone rings, and he spends a few minutes reassuring whoever it is on the other line that the kids are all alive and accounted for.

Lunch eventually winds to a close; Dave and Finn both working to clean up the children, the tables and the nearby floor of the worst of the damage. They've arranged to meet up at the ice skating rink later, and Kurt has thankfully been left out of the invitation. Just before they leave his hand brushes against Dave's, and his hand is grasped firmly by Dave's larger and warmer hand, before letting go again. It's a reminder and a promise and the knowledge fills Kurt with warmth.  _Finally_.

* * *

Seeing Kurt has done nothing to dampen Dave's anticipation for that evening. He'd been enjoying his day, but now he just wishes he could fast-forward through it and get to spending time with Kurt. Finn's presence was the only thing that had kept him subdued, because he'd really wanted to kiss Kurt goodbye. Except he has no idea what, if anything, Kurt has told his family. Dave suspects that Kurt has said nothing. So he'll play it cool.  _Friends_.

With a level of stealth that is surprising Sara and Zach appear almost out of thin air and Dave resists the urge to groan out loud or bang his head on the nearest wall. He should have known that Pat would have dropped them at the mall, there still isn't that much for teenagers to do in Lima, and Sara likes shopping, and he suspects Zach does too. He's trying to ignore Zach, who has stepped just close enough to invade his personal space.

"Who are they?" Zach asks, and he's watching Kurt and Finn, who have got as far as the ice-cream stand and are getting something for Ryan.

"My boyfriend and his brother and his kids," Dave answers, because he's suddenly realised that he can use this to his advantage and hopefully get Zach out of his face. Zach shoots an annoyed glare after Kurt, which Dave can't help but find hilarious, but hides his amusement and satisfaction.

"Are you sure they're brothers? They don't  _look_  like brothers."

"Yeah I'm sure. I went to high school with them. They're step brothers."

"You went to high school with him. And he's your boyfriend? Does he live here?" Zach asks, clearly curious, and Sara is listening closely as well and Dave knows he's opening a potentially dangerous can of worms. But what the hell, he's already had far too personal conversations with Sara and with AJ, why not with Zach? Actually, when he likens Zach to AJ he feels slightly kinder towards the boy, especially when he takes into consideration that Zach has actually been kicked out of home and doesn't have the support that AJ clearly has in regards to Az.

"He lives in LA. His brother lives here, along with their parents."

"So, what? You guys have a long-distance relationship or something?"

Definitely _'or something'_  Dave thinks, but he nods. As far as he's concerned he's in a long-distance relationship, even if it still feels oddly one-sided. He's hoping to change that soon though. Sara is looking ridiculously excited, and Dave sees a future Karen in-the-making, far too involved and interested in her gay-friend's love-life. He suddenly feels a pang of future-Zach, because he has no idea what he's in for if they remain friends.

"He looks too old for you," Zach states, trying (and failing) to look coy. "I live much closer than LA you know."

Dave stares at Zach in astonishment before bursting into laughter. Fuck the boy has some balls, but it's bought this whole situation between them to a head thankfully, so now he can deal with it. Sara is looking horrified, and Dave can't blame her, but he also can't believe she's not managed to notice the blatant come-ons Zach has been giving him. Zach is starting to look annoyed, and Dave stops laughing abruptly. He doesn't think Zach has any problem with his ego or self-confidence, but he doesn't want to suddenly give him one. In a public food court is no place for the conversation he's about to have, but needs must.

"Zach, Kurt's younger than me by a couple of months, and I'm older than you by nearly seventeen years, which makes me old enough to be your father. I get that for some weird reason you like me, but not only are you only fifteen, but I have a boyfriend, and even if I didn't, I like men my own age," Dave's voice is low, and Zach is listening, but clearly not liking what Dave is telling him. Sara is still looking equal parts horrified and shocked. "Also I'm a police officer. I have a duty to act in a manner befitting my job, which means even if I did like you, and I don't, I'm sorry, I wouldn't act on it."

Zach is pouting and looking at the floor now, and Dave hopes he's let him down softly enough to not hurt his feelings, but also firmly enough so that he realises his fascination with Dave isn't going to go anywhere.

"If you were my age and single would you go out with me then?" Zach's voice is quiet and Dave's heart suddenly breaks for him. He remembers high school. Watching everyone around him with girlfriends (and Kurt with bloody Blaine), and just wondering if he'd ever get a turn. And he didn't, not in high school. He'd been in college before he'd finally felt like he'd caught up with his peers.

"I don't know Zach, because I didn't have a boyfriend in high school. I wasn't even  _out_  in high school. I was nineteen before I got a boyfriend. You  _will_ find someone though. I'm a firm believer that there is someone for everyone. It's just not me," Dave says, and Zach shoots him a glare.

"I get it. Right. Fine. Well, thanks I guess. Was he out in high school?" Zach asks, looking in the direction that Finn and Kurt have disappeared in. Dave smiles, recalling just how  _out_  Kurt had been back then.

"Yeah, he was, and he had a boyfriend as well. Look, I have to be somewhere soon, but I'm happy to talk and answer any questions you might have," Dave says, and he means it. Like AJ, he'd rather Zach be informed properly, rather than gleaning half-truths and exaggerations from the internet or friends.

Zach's face lights up, and Dave wonders whether he's had the opportunity to actually talk to anyone, or whether he's simply excited about talking to Dave. Probably alone.  _Fuck_. That is something Dave is  _not_  okay with, not that he thinks Zach would lie, but he's not willing to risk his job or integrity on a kid he just met two days ago. He wonders what Az and AJ are doing tomorrow, seeing as he's suddenly become a mentor-to-gay-teens he might as well include them as well, and it might make Zach feel less alone, meeting another out gay-teen.

"Tonight?" Zach asks hopefully and Dave shakes his head

"I have plans tonight, but tomorrow's good. And now, we've really got to go," Dave says, turning to where Matthew has fortunately been keeping Kadin and Kruze entertained with colouring books from their bag. He packs them up quickly enough before swinging Kruze up onto his hip and taking Kadin's hand. Matthew silently takes the bag and they head towards the car park. As they leave he hears an 'e _w, but he's sooooo old'_  from Sara, and he lets out a sigh of resignation.

* * *

Kurt has taken advantage of his free afternoon and used his dad's treadmill, that judging from the dust settled on it, hasn't been used since Kurt last visited. He follows his run with an hour long session of Pilates, before taking a long hot shower. And now he's at Finn's, who is trying to convince him to eat pizza for dinner while bathing Imogen in her baby bath.

"Look, it's tradition for us. We have pizza the day after Thanksgiving. I'm meant to be cooking dinner, and as long as it doesn't involve either turkey or pumpkin, Mel doesn't care," Finn says in response to Kurt's query regarding the ' _cooking dinner'_  probably not including takeout. And he's noticed a trend that nearly all of Finn's holiday traditions involve food in some way. How his brother isn't twice the size he is Kurt has no idea.

"Okay, okay, I'll go get pizza. I don't think I'll actually eat any myself though," Kurt says, because not only does he not want to undo all his hard work this afternoon, but pizza nearly always gives him indigestion, which is something he's not sure whether to account to age, or taste.

"Just order the vegan pizza, it's all green stuff on a piece of cardboard that they call a wheat meal base. No cheese on it either. It's gross."

"Thanks Finn, you're really selling it to me. Green cardboard sounds delicious."

"Mel likes it, was the only thing she ate for a whole week once while she was pregnant with Imogen. Cold for breakfast even. The house stunk of spinach for weeks. It was gross."

Kurt raises a disbelieving eyebrow, this from a guy who once ate a week-old grilled cheese, but he also seems to know what spinach smells like. Finn takes no notice, too busy wrapping his daughter in a towel and drying her. Kurt lets out a sigh, not even knowing why he's bothered trying to argue the point anyway, he's in Finn's house, and it's what they want for dinner. He'll probably have a slice or two of the vegan before heading back to his dad's to get changed before heading out to meet Dave.

He listens as Finn gives him a list of instructions, like he's never ordered pizza before, and the way Finn is talking Kurt is starting to think that maybe he should be noting it down. Pulling out his phone he asks Finn to repeat his instructions (shudders at the pineapple on one half, anchovies on the other half part of the order), refuses to accept any money and says he'll be back shortly.

* * *

Dave is wishing he could get away with either knocking them unconscious, or at least gagging them. Since arriving back at his parent's place after ice-skating Zach and Sara have clearly decided that Dave is cool and have followed his every move and listened intently to every word he's said. He'd offered to go and pick up the pizza, rather than have it delivered, simply to get some space. It had backfired horribly of course, the pair of them now in the backseat, asking questions about what he was like in high school.

When he pulls into the parking lot outside Nona's Pizzeria he's  _really_ wishing they weren't with him, because he can see the unmistakeable form of Kurt sitting inside, legs crossed, flicking through a magazine with an obviously feigned level of interest.  _Fuck_.

"Stay here, I'll be right back," he instructs as he gets out of the car, and for all of three steps he thinks it might have worked, but then hears the slamming of car doors and the crunch of footsteps.

"Hey, isn't that your boyfriend?" Sara asks, spying Kurt, and Dave turns to them both, barring them from entering the small shop.

"Our relationship isn't exactly public knowledge yet, so please don't go blurting things like that out, or asking him stupid, dumb or private questions. Okay?"

Sara and Zach both nod in silent agreement, and Dave hopes that that is enough. He doesn't want to push Kurt into something he's not ready for yet, and having two incredibly nosy teenagers with no sense of boundaries are a sure fire way to send him back to LA on the next available flight. He holds the door open for them and they file past him, eyes fixed on Kurt in open curiosity and Dave rolls his eyes. Fuck, they're not going to have to say anything, their stares say plenty.

He smiles at Kurt and murmurs a soft greeting before going up to the counter to ask about the internet order for Karofsky. After being told it'll be another ten minutes, he turns to sit and finds that of the three available seats when he'd walked in, Zach has taken the one beside Kurt, leaving a gap, and then Sara has taken the other end of the row. Kurt is looking decidedly amused but does nothing to help Dave out.

"Zach, move please," Dave instructs, and he has to admit to himself that the word please is added only out of habit.

"Oh, you want  _this_  chair?"

"You want to walk home?" Dave replies, and a part of him is deadly serious. Zach clearly picks up on it because he moves the fastest Dave has seen him move all holiday. He settles into the chair beside Kurt with a soft sigh, definitely tired, but energised knowing he has just over an hour before he'll be free of his family and able to just  _be._

"Hi again," Kurt says, and his lips are quirking in amusement and Dave just wants to lean over and kiss him, and the tiny pizza parlour is definitely an improvement on the mall food court, but there is still an audience Dave wishes weren't here.

* * *

"Hi," Dave replies, and Kurt has never heard a word so heavy with meaning, although he could be imagining it. Dave's hand reaches for his and Kurt lets their fingers interlace. It feels good. He spares a quick glance at the two teenagers, and they're both watching Dave and himself with interest, which he finds slightly disconcerting. Dave is running his thumb back and forth over the fleshy part of his thumb though, which serves as enough of a distraction, his body zinging with awareness.

"Order for Hudson?"

Kurt sighs; of course now that he's got an incentive to sit and wait, his order is ready. He squeezes Dave's hand before pulling his hand away and standing to go to the counter. He's already paid so he accepts the three boxes and turns back to Dave before walking to stand directly in front of him.

"I'll see you in a bit," he says, and he carefully balances the pizzas before leaning down and kissing Dave. He doesn't intend for it to be any more than a peck really, but he hasn't taken into consideration the fact that they haven't done anything more than hold hands or play a weird pseudo-footsie with their knees for over a month now, and all the little flirty text messages and conversations heavy with innuendo is culminating in  _this_.

Dave's hand is on his hip, which he realises is steadying him when he sways slightly. It's a firm kiss, hot with promise, and Kurt feels Dave's tongue dart into his mouth with lightning speed before retreating. Kurt follows it with his own tongue, and he feels a hand in his hair, warm fingers pressing against his scalp. He lets out a short quiet gasp and pulls back, eyes fixed on Dave's, which are blown wide and dark.

"I'll see you in a bit," Kurt repeats, and then steps back slightly, hoping his knees are going to hold him before heading out of the shop. The teenagers have started talking before he's even taken two steps.

"Not public knowledge huh?"

"Guess we know what  _your_  plans for tonight are."

Kurt leaves the pizzeria to the sound of Dave telling them to shut up.

* * *

When he arrives at Cookies Kurt is already there and waiting, which isn't surprising given that he's running fifteen minutes late. After their little performance in the pizzeria Zach has suddenly become an avid supporter of the idea of Dave and Kurt together, which Dave is going to put down to the fact that it was likely the first gay kiss he's seen in real life. Thoughts of their earlier kiss have him striding across the room to the booth Kurt is sitting in. He leans down and kisses him, not caring who might see them, because if Kurt can kiss him in a pizzeria, then Dave can kiss him in a bar.

"Hi again," Kurt says when Dave pulls away to slide in opposite him. He immediately slides a leg between Kurt's and gets a heated smile for his efforts.

"Fuck is it good to see you…" Dave says, and he winces internally at the words, unsure whether that's saying too much, and shit he'll be glad when he can stop being so guarded with his thoughts and feelings, not that he's being overly careful, but he still feels like anything could swing Kurt away from him.

"Rough holiday so far?"

"I…just…You have any idea how we made it through our teens without our parents killing us? I mean… I'm glad I'm never going to be a parent because seriously? I have had it up to here with teenagers in the last forty-eight hours."

And he has. Between having to counsel Sara out of her self-absorbed funk, talk AJ through the perils of gay sex and dealing with Zach and his persistent invasion of not only his personal space but also his personal life he's ready to burst, and not in a good way.

"Apparently it's different when they're your own," Kurt replies, and he takes a sip of his drink and Dave watches as he licks his lips and swallows. His voice is low but his eyes are sparking with amusement and desire and  _fuck_ , this is the first time they've been alone and not had to run away to some bloody family commitment, and he's wasting time by complaining about his family and their friends. He stands abruptly, holding his hand out to Kurt. He has no idea where they're going to go, but he's not going to sit around making small talk.

Kurt takes his hand and stands, leaving his drink and follows Dave as he weaves through the tables back towards the entryway. He freezes about halfway there and starts swearing under his breath. His sisters have just walked in. He darts his eyes back and forth, they haven't spotted him, but it's only a matter of time, it's not a big bar, and it's not busy. He turns sharply to face Kurt.

"It's my sisters. God. I'm sorry for anything and everything they say, okay?"

"You think we could make an escape out the fire exit?"

"Tempting. Very very tempting. Come on, let's reclaim the booth, have a drink, and then get out of here as fast as possible. Maybe if we sit right in the corner they won't see us."

"I don't think that's likely, since they're already headed this way," Kurt tells him and Dave groans. This is the last thing he needs.

"Davey, aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?" Jen asks, and Dave turns slowly, eyes narrowed. Jen knows all too well exactly who Kurt is.

"Kurt, these are my sisters, Patricia and Jenny. Pat, Jen, this is Kurt."

"Hi Kurt." "Hello Kurt."

"Hi, I recognise you from the photos in Dave's apartment." Dave bites his tongue, worst possible thing Kurt could have said, Pat's going to interrogate him and Jen is going to wind him up, he just knows it.

"You've been to Dave's apartment?"

"For dinner," Dave interjects, eyes rolling.

"Dave cooked for you?" Jen asks, quirking a suggestive eyebrow. Kurt lets out a tiny huff of amusement.

"Oh, for fucks sake…" Dave snaps, and he knows he should know better, but he doesn't care right now. He wants time with Kurt.  _Alone_. And his bloody sisters are not going to cock-block him, no matter how much perverse pleasure Jen might get out of it. "We were just leaving actually. Enjoy your night. Don't wait up for me."

And with that, and Kurt's little wave and ' _it was nice to meet you!'_  he's almost dragging Kurt to his rental car. He notes Kurt's complete lack of protest as he pulls him close, peppering kisses over his face, down his neck, one hand squeezing an arse cheek, the other curled in the shirt he's wearing, probably crinkling it, but he doubts Kurt cares right now. Although, it does make him wonder…

"Why aren't you wearing a jacket?"

"Didn't want to waste time putting it on. I can pick it up tomorrow. Just…let's not hang about outside too long."

Dave quickly unlocks the car and turns the heaters on, and part of him wants to insist that Kurt go back inside to retrieve his jacket, but another wants to keep him as far away from his sisters as possible. He goes with the latter and turns to Kurt, reaching a hand out to him, almost trying to reassure himself that it's real. He leans over the centre console and kisses him, slowly this time, tasting the bitter tang of lime in Kurt's mouth, trying to memorise every taste, every sound and the press of Kurt's mouth against his. He pulls back slightly.

"You have a plan?"

"I…no, not really…just…come back to my place…?"

Dave laughs and then looks across at Kurt. He's pretty sure Kurt has to be joking, because the idea seems crazy.

"You can't be serious." Kurt's expression doesn't change. " _Fuck_. You  _are_  serious. Kurt, it's your dad's place…"

"And I'm a grown man. He can't ground me if I have a friend stay."

"Well no, but there is such a thing as respect. And your dad scares me," Dave states, and he has no shame in admitting it, and he's noted Kurt's use of the bloody  _friend_  word again but he shakes it off.

"Well, my dad and Carol are staying in Columbus tonight with Carol's aunt, so your chance of running into my dad is zero. So just drive, we're wasting precious time."

Dave lets out a long sigh, because he knows he's a complete sap, but he can't view any time spent with Kurt as a waste.

* * *

He runs to the house, keys already in hand, trying his best to ignore the softly falling snow as it pricks at his uncovered skin as it lands. Dave had offered his jacket, several times in fact, and Kurt had stubbornly refused it, mainly because he likes the idea of being cold and being held to Dave's warm body. Every time Dave touches him Kurt feels like checking him for a temperature, he just feels so hot. Even now, standing behind him and trying to protect him from the worst of the cold with the sheer presence of his body, Kurt can feel the heat coming off him in waves.

He opens the door and pulls Dave inside, tugging him towards the stairs and up to the guest room. Dave follows, occasionally stopping Kurt to kiss him before moving forward again. Once they're in the bedroom Kurt closes the door, they might be alone in the house, but Finn has a key, and he's not going to risk it. What Dave had said earlier had made Kurt feel so  _guilty_  that this is what he'd thought of as soon as his dad had told him of their sudden plan to travel to Columbus. Kurt would never bring random guys home. But anyway, Dave wasn't just some random guy. He was  _Dave_.

"Come on, let me warm you up." Dave's voice breaks through his conscious thoughts and he realises he's shivering slightly, although he's fairly certain it's due to anticipation rather than cold, but if it gets Dave touching him he doesn't care about  _why_.

Warm hands are at his waist, tugging his shirt out of his pants, sneaking under the hem and running up his ribs where they  _burn_. Kurt's body almost jolts at the sensation, and he must have moved closer to Dave somehow, because their bodies are flush with one another and Dave's lips are on his ear, nipping and sucking, fingers on the buttons of his shirt. Kurt shakes himself mentally and starts returning the favour, hands going to Dave's shirt where he works the buttons loose and apart to reveal a bloody t-shirt.

"Off with this," Kurt instructs, plucking at the shirt, and Dave obliges easily enough, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion that allows Kurt to watch the byplay of muscle movement in the chest and arms in front of him.

"God I want you to fuck me…" Kurt mutters, and he really does, he's been thinking about nothing but for the last few weeks, imagining it when he jerks off. Dave seems to have frozen against him, and Kurt's not sure if that's a good thing. He chances a glance at Dave's face only to find it shuttered against him. The expression clears quickly enough but it does make Kurt wonder what's going on behind those shutters.

"Do you have condoms? And lube?"

It's Kurt's turn to freeze, as he realises that in fact he  _doesn't_  have condoms. Not  _here_ , where he bloody well needs them anyway. He'd bought some not even an hour ago, taken three from the box and put them in his jacket pocket. Which is of completely no use considering his jacket is still in Cookies and the rental car parked on the street outside, no doubt getting covered in snow.  _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

"I'll take that as a no then?" Dave asks, and his voice is carefully modulated, as if he's unsure how to react to Kurt, or maybe to how he thinks Kurt _wants_  him to react. Kurt frowns.

"I should have gone back for my jacket, I bought some, I just…"

Dave shrugs easily enough, and Kurt decides he must have a bottomless pit of patience, because he's so angry with himself right now. He lets out a huff of annoyance and Dave's hands tighten on his hips.

"I'm…kind of glad. I know this is a casual thing, but sex is still a big deal for me, I'm sorry if you think it's old-fashioned, maybe I'm just an old-fashioned type of guy, but I'd like it to be in my bed. Or your bed. So…we have to wait a bit longer, maybe it's just meant to be this way," Dave says, shrugging again and Kurt bites his lip, because it's sweet and Dave sounds so nervous, saying all that, as if he half expects Kurt to turn into a raving sex-maniac and not be okay with that for some reason. And if he's honest he  _is_  disappointed, however he'd much rather have Dave a full-blown participant with no reservations than do something he might regret. Kurt can live with this.

"That's fine, I don't mind waiting…just means we're going to have to get creative. I do have lube," he states, just to make it clear that something is on the cards. He doesn't think that Dave is suddenly going to turn all shy, not with what they've already done together, but he feels like they start afresh each time they see each other, which can be a bit disconcerting when you've had the guy's dick in your mouth.

"I'm sure we can work something out," Dave murmurs, and his hands are back to roaming over Kurt's body and leaving fiery-hot trails and Kurt moans, and he knows he doesn't care how he gets off, because as long as it's with Dave, it's bound to be amazing.

* * *

Dave remembers what he said to Kurt last time they were like this, but he doesn't want to watch Kurt, he wants to touch, and taste and yeah,  _then_  he wants to watch him come, but he wants to be the cause, not just a spectator. Pants discarded now their bodies have nothing between them, and Dave knows what he wants to do, which is an act arguably more intimate than sex, but he really wants to rim Kurt. He knows some guys aren't comfortable with it, but god he hopes Kurt isn't one of them.

He wants to ask, but he doesn't, instead moving them both towards the bed, quite frankly shocked they've managed to actually stay away from it this long. They lay side-by-side, hands on each other's cocks, and Dave's not entirely sure, but there is none of the intense frenzy that there has been in some of their previous encounters. This feels different somehow.

"Roll over," Dave murmurs, his voice a whisper, but it's directly into Kurt's ear and he complies with soft hum of appreciation or approval, Dave's not sure, but he rubs up against Dave just before lying face down, and it reminds Dave of a cat. He moves to kneel above Kurt, a knee on either side of his hips, and his cock resting on Kurt's arse when he leans forward to run his hands down the long line of Kurt's back. He starts slowly, massaging the shoulders and arms before beginning to focus solely on his back.

"I'll fall asleep you know," Kurt murmurs, and he does sound lethargic, but Dave knows he'll be turning that around. Hopefully. As he rubs Kurt's back he starts placing random butterfly kisses wherever he wants. When he runs his fingers up either side of Kurt's spine and follows it with his tongue he hears Kurt's muffled ' _oh fuck_ ' said into the mattress and feels the movement of Kurt's hips beneath him as he tries to move for friction. Dave grins, pretty confident now that Kurt's going to enjoy what's coming next.

He moves lower, so he's straddling Kurt's knees, taking care to not let any of his weight actually rest on Kurt. His hands are on Kurt's lower back and arse cheeks, rubbing and stroking, his tongue flicking into the small indent in Kurt's lower back. Without prompting Kurt moves to spread his legs, and Dave feels a rush of relief, knowing that they're both on the same page. He moves so that he's kneeling between Kurt's knees and he's so close to suddenly coming he has to grip the base of his own dick so roughly he winces. The pain distracts him enough though that coming is no longer an issue. He can focus again on Kurt.

He massages the cheeks for a few more seconds before parting them to reveal Kurt's hole, and it looks tight and impossibly tiny and Dave feels a surge of  _want_  go through him that hopefully one day in the not too distant future he will be pushing himself in there. Now though, he swipes over it with his tongue and Kurt moans something Dave is pretty sure is his name. He allows the saliva to pool in his mouth, and he swipes again, and again. Each time going a bit slower and a bit firmer, until it's a slick slide of tongue down the crack with very little friction.

He pushes at Kurt's knees, and with a muttered ' _fucking hell_ ' Kurt pulls his knees beneath him, causing his arse cheeks to spread and expose himself fully. Dave mutters the same curse under his breath, before running his tongue along the groove of Kurt's crack again. He repeats the action a few times before finally focussing solely on the hole. He runs his tongue in an ever-decreasing spiral and then pushes in. Kurt is pushing back, repeating a mantra that Dave can hear includes his name and quite frankly that's all he cares about right now.

He continues to work his tongue, maintaining the circular motion as much as possible and allowing his spit to simply flow from his mouth onto and into Kurt. He can tell when Kurt relaxes completely, because he's suddenly got extra space for movement of his tongue, and he makes good use of it, working deeper and allowing the broader part of his tongue continue to work Kurt open. He can hear more clearly now what Kurt is saying, although it still doesn't make a lot of sense, but he's clearly enjoying it.

"Touch yourself," Dave says quickly, before diving back in, and Kurt is almost panting but Dave feels his weight shift and suddenly Kurt's hand is working furiously on his own cock. Dave braces a hand on Kurt's hip, locks his knees and reaches for his cock with his other hand. He works his tongue in and out rapidly, matching the pace to his hand. He'd like Kurt to come first, but he doesn't think that's going to happen. He groans again, the mounting pressure suddenly seeming to have increased exponentially. Kurt bucks towards him and then he's coming, cock spurting over the sheet, tongue still busy making its second home in Kurt's arse. Seconds later Kurt is coming, and it's just as bloody well that they're the only ones in the house because the shout he gives when he comes is anything but discreet. Kurt collapses to the side, moving so he can watch Dave and his in-vain attempts at a clean-up.

"Leave it… sleep now," Kurt instructs, and Dave pauses for all of a second before curling up on the bed beside Kurt and pulling the blankets up over them. He'll worry about it when he wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Rimming


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad so many of you enjoyed the previous chapter (*cough* I wonder why?) Also, even though Debraelq saw none of this, her previous advice and help has definitely made it a better chapter (I'm getting some Americanisms down!)

 

**DECEMBER 2025 – part one**

Kurt has very quickly developed a routine to ensure that he keeps in contact with his friends and family. He runs at least three times a week and does Pilates five times. He's been trying to delegate at work, and he's learnt what Vicky is capable of and knows what he can and can't trust her with (sometimes the hard way). Just a couple of months ago he'd had to make a conscious effort to eat and sleep, but now he's falling asleep easily enough, although getting more than six hours before he snaps awake is a rare occurrence.

Eating wise he's good, always preparing his fruit salad the night before, and getting Vicky to remind him about lunch if he seems likely to forget, although it's rare now that he does. He's found a company that make meals and deliver, so he uses them when he knows he's going to be too tired to make any sort of effort to cook in the evening.

Since Thanksgiving he talks to Dave every second night or so. He'd instigated the calling, and the warmth in Dave's voice the first time had calmed Kurt's fears. Sometimes their conversations are short, but occasionally they talk for hours. He knows Dave's schedule now, what nights he has training, or karate or when he's going out with friends. Occasionally he gets to hear the same stories twice, both from Mercedes and Dave, and he enjoys feeling like a part of their lives.

Today is Thursday, Dave has karate in the evening, so Kurt takes the time to visit Cassie at her sister's place every week, where she has moved in permanently. Their friendship has changed and solidified even further. His other friends have split, most remaining friends with Alex rather than him. He knows why, his previous attitude to work hasn't left a lot of room for friendships, and many of them were Alex's friends to start with. He changes from job to job, so the people he's worked with have always seemed transitionary to him. There is a small core group of people that he has worked with several times, but none that he knows well enough to socialise with.

So Cassie is the start of a new group of friends, along with Carson and Brett. Carson is a set developer, who Kurt's worked with directly on several projects, while Brett is a cameraman. He's known both of them for years, and he'd thought for a while that they were together before Carson had pointed out that they just lived together and that Brett was straight. He has dinner plans with them and some of their friends on Saturday, which is a first and is causing him a fair amount of trepidation. He's thinking of asking Cassie to come just to help ease his way.

He pulls up to the security check point outside Renee's gates and greets the security guard, smiling and waving at the guard as he's let through. It's always a part of his job that amuses him; the lengths people go to protect their privacy. He understands of course, it just makes him grateful that his own job doesn't draw the spotlight; and that he can go about fairly anonymously. He parks beside a car he hasn't seen before and heads for the front door.

"Now's probably not the best time," Cassie says when she answers, and Jamie's on her hip, looking in the same direction Kurt is, which is where the sound of yelling is coming from. Kurt isn't entirely sure, but he's fairly sure one of the people is Renee, Cassie's sister.

"Um, anything I can help with?" Kurt asks.

"Well, actually, you probably can. But not right now. Not until they actually stop yelling at each other."

"Oh-kay…" Kurt says, not sure where to go with that statement exactly, and now not sure whether to leave or not.

"Augh, you might as well come in, maybe it will make them shut up," Cassie decides, opening the door wider and stepping back. Kurt takes a hesitant step forward. "They've always argued, and there's no reasoning with them when they're like this," Cassie states, and she sounds tired and bored.

"Who exactly is doing the screaming?"

"Oh, Renee and Reese." Kurt looks at her blankly until she elaborates. "Reese, our brother? Renee's twin?"

"Oh, she has a twin? I remember her saying something about a brother the first time I met her, but didn't realise… Um. So. What they're screaming about?" Kurt asks, watching as Cassie slides Jamie into a highchair and pours two glasses of wine.

"He's just come out. Well, rather, he was caught on someone's phone giving a BJ to some random guy in a club, and of course Renee thinks the world is ending and has accused him of being a selfish prick and how dare he be gay yadda yadda yadda…"

" _What_?" Kurt asks, and he's shocked, not the whole being caught giving someone a blowjob, because doing that in a club is just asking to have someone record it and use it for their own private use later, but Renee… she's always seemed all-accepting of Kurt, like the majority of people who call LA home.

"Oh, it's not that he's gay, she doesn't have a problem with  _that_ , it's how he's been lying to us for years and the timing of everything and then getting caught like he has. She started saying how it was going to be bad for her career and that's when he snapped and started yelling back, calling her a selfish bitch and how the world doesn't revolve around her…"

Kurt blinks. Blinks again. It sounds like a soap opera. He's not sure what to say. He knows Cassie is the eldest, because when she gets drunk she gets maudlin about being the underachiever of the family, and he's pretty sure the brother does something that makes him famous as well, although Kurt has no idea what.

"Um. Right. Maybe it would be best if I left…"

"Don't be stupid. Have a drink and watch the carnage with me. Although I should probably go and put Jamie down first. Just give me a second."

Kurt's halfway through nodding as she leaves the spacious kitchen, taking Jamie with her. It's a massive house, a mansion really, of which Renee and Cassie only live in one small part. He'd been shown around when he'd visited the first time, and he's stayed over a couple of nights, but he's pretty sure he would get lost if he had to venture out further than the first corridor.

Then he hears Cassie, her screaming drowns out the other two easily, and she's telling them to shut up and grow up and using more swear words than non-swear words. He spares a quick thought for Jamie and then hears his name, and she's telling them he's here and that they have to be polite. Kurt snorts. Her voice is softer now, instructing them to go into the kitchen and calm the fuck down because Jamie needs his sleep and two banshees yelling at each other isn't inducive to him sleeping well. Kurt thinks something along the lines of how three banshees are obviously magical at getting a child to sleep but knows he'll keep  _that_  thought to himself.

Renee and a man Kurt assumes must be Reese stomp into the kitchen like petulant children, both of them shooting filthy looks not only at each other but at Cassie as well. Kurt feels like telling them all to relax, because even he's starting to feel edgy with the tension in the air. Renee has grabbed another wine glass and pours herself a drink while Reese grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. Cassie instructs them to play nicely and disappears with Jamie.

Kurt sizes him up quickly, he's tall, well-muscled and dressed to show off the muscles. He's handsome, in the movie-star way, which Kurt supposes makes a weird sort of sense given that his twin-sister  _is_  a movie-star. His body language though is incredibly defensive and confrontational, and he's staring at Kurt as if his sheer presence in the kitchen is wrong. Kurt doesn't like him, which is odd, because generally speaking he likes everyone.

* * *

Cassie re-enters the kitchen about ten minutes later and Kurt has finished his wine, the edgy-silence eating at his nerves. Renee has been clicking her nails against each other and Reese has sat down at the breakfast bar and is staring at the marble bench top.

"Miserable bunch of sad sacks," Cassie mutters and Kurt shoots her a quick smile. "Did Renee introduce you Reese? This is Kurt, one of my friends. He's gay too."

Reese lets out a derisive snort. "I told you, I don't need to be set up, especially not with one of your friends. I don't need a pity fuck." He's talking like Kurt isn't even the room, and even though likes him even less now that he's heard him talk, he has never appreciated being ignored.

"Please, even if I was available, I have better taste," Kurt says in his iciest queen bitch voice. He might be pretty to look at, but his arrogance is not attractive in the slightest.

"Well you aren't exactly my type either princess," Reese snaps back, and Kurt feels his hackles rise. He does  _not_  like being called that, and it's been a long while since he's had to deal with open hostility.

"Since when?" Cassie asks, and Kurt flicks his eyes to her, eyes drawing down in a frown as he considers her question, distracted.

"What?"

"Since when have you become unavailable? And you -" she turns a finger on Reese "Kurt is a good friend and I wouldn't pair him up with  _your_  sorry, not to mention  _rude_ , arse. Now talk," she says, turning back to Kurt.

"Oh… well…" Kurt pauses, he hasn't told anyone about Dave. Mercedes knows, but it's not gotten any less confusing, some days he feels like he's waiting for some type of epiphany. "I'm kind of with a guy, but he lives in Chicago."

"Oh, long distance. How  _romantic_ ," Cassie enthuses, and Kurt's kind of touched how she seems to be excited for him, because he'd kind of thought she'd be at least a bit upset that he's moved on from Alex already, found someone new, while she still experiences days of wanting her life with Marcus back.

"Long distance, which never works out," Renee supplies, and Kurt frowns again, because he knows she's speaking the truth, he doesn't know of any relationship that has worked out long-distance.

"Augh, you're such a pessimist. Do you have a picture?" Cassie asks, and she almost bouncing on her toes. Kurt pauses and bites his lip, because he _does_  have a picture. Several pictures in fact. None of which Dave's aware exist, all taken while he was asleep. He'd been trying to replicate the picture of Dave asleep that hangs on Dave's bedroom door. Trying being the operative word, because all he'd ended up with was slightly fuzzy monochromatic shots.

"Show me, show me, show me…"

He pulls his phone out and she grabs it eagerly, flicking through to his photo album. He hears her breath catch and he ducks his head, suddenly embarrassed.

"When did you take  _these_?"

"Uh, Thanksgiving," Kurt supplies, and he knows Cassie is boring holes into his head, and he's studying the pattern on the tiles as if it might hold the answers to life simply to avoid looking at her. The photos aren't nude, but only because Kurt had moved the sheet  _just so_. It's blatantly clear from looking at the pictures what has most likely happened.

"You spent the  _holidays_  together?"

"No. He's from Lima as well. He was back visiting his family."

"Nice…" Renee murmurs, and Kurt's head snaps up to see her standing beside Cassie and peering at the pictures, and Kurt feels his cheeks warm. Apparently all this family needs to get on is his sex life to focus on.

"What's his name? Where did you meet him… come on, I want details," Cassie demands.

"Dave. David. Uh, we went to high school together, but…we met up again when I was in Chicago in August. He's Mike's best friend, the guy Mercedes is seeing seriously," he adds, solely for Cassie's benefit, because he knows Renee will have no idea who he's talking about. And although he's trying to appear not to be interested, Reese is clearly listening. "There're probably some better photos of when we were in New York," he adds, and Cassie responds with fingers flicking across the screen of his phone.

"Oh, he's dressed…" she says, clearly disappointed and Kurt rolls his eyes and notes the little twitch from Reese, who is still sitting on the other side of the kitchen and clearly won't move to look at photos of some random guy.

"He's very…masculine. What does he do?" Renee asks, and she's clearly appreciative of Dave's good looks, and Kurt is suddenly incredibly grateful that Dave is not only gay, but likely never to meet Renee, because he's pretty sure she'd try the whole ' _are you sure your gay?'_  line on him. Not that he thinks Dave would respond, but he's feeling distinctly territorial right now.

"He's a cop," Kurt supplies, and both Renee and Cassie make appreciative hums of approval, and he snorts in amusement. He's never seen the attraction of uniforms, and quite frankly, he'd rather see Dave naked than in a uniform. Cassie flicks through the rest of the photos before handing the phone back to him.

"So when do I get to meet him?"

He smiles tightly and shrugs. Dave has made no mention of wanting to come out to LA. In fact, now that he thinks about it, he's made no mention of Kurt coming to Chicago either. They haven't even talked about Christmas, which is weird, because they're both probably going back to Lima anyway. At least that's what Kurt assumes.

"It's complicated," he finally says, and while it is, with each phone conversation and text message he's starting to feel like it shouldn't be complicated, but there's still the matter of distance, and he can't magic that away.

* * *

It's not a usual time of day for him to call, but they've missed the last two nights, and he can't call tonight because Dave is having one of his dinner party things, which Kurt really wishes he could go to, and for other reasons than just Dave's cooking.

"Hi." His voice is sleepy and Kurt frowns, Dave's normally an early riser, he'd definitely thought he'd be awake by now.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine, I was having a nap on the couch."

"Oh…" Kurt replies, and his eyes flick to the corner where his visual conferencing gear is, and he bites his lip. He's wanted to suggest it. More than once. But he's afraid that Dave might think he's getting all pervy, and well, he is a  _bit_ , but he just wants to see Dave's face, all sleep rumpled and probably creased from where his head has been resting on a cushion. "So, how've you been?" he asks instead, silently throwing his head back and hitting it against the back of his chair several times. He shouldn't be this unsure or shy, but he is and it's just…

"Fine. Normal. Boring. You?" Dave asks, and Kurt can  _hear_ his smile, and he smiles back, unable to stop.

"I'm…good. Drama drama, but… do you have a webcam?"

"Do I…? Yeah, I do? What are we using it for?" Dave asks, and Kurt can hear the amused interest in his voice. He really hadn't meant to ask, but it's out now.

"Um, nothing right now, I just…maybe next time."

"What about now? Nothing's wrong with first thing in the morning. Best time of day for it."

" _Dave_ …"

" _Kurt_ …" Dave singsongs back and Kurt feels bubbles of happiness-joy-amusement flood through him.

"That wasn't what I meant."

"Did I say it was?"

"Well…no. But you don't need to. You implied plenty."

Dave lets out a loud laugh, and Kurt really wishes he could see him.

"You're the one that bought them up in the first place you know…"

"I know. But I just…I really didn't mean for us to use it to have cyber-sex. I just…"  _really want to see your face._

"No need to be embarrassed," Dave murmurs, far too amused and Kurt mutters a quiet ' _shut up'_. "Anyway, you mentioned drama. On set drama or real life drama?"

"Oh… _both_. The lead actress broke her wrist yesterday trying to walk down some steps, so they've got to rework the filming schedule around a cast and I have to rework the costumes. Also Cassie's brother came out, which is apparently a big deal, although I have no idea why. He's currently not talking to her, which she seems perfectly okay with actually. He the most arrogant arsehole I've met in ages, which is saying something considering the industry I work in. Anyway, I think she has enough drama in her life without dealing with her bloody brother and sister."

"Guh. I know how she feels. My sisters drive me crazy, and I don't even live with them," Dave mutters, and Kurt wants to ask, because usually Dave has nothing but love for his sisters, except when they're potentially cock-blocking him of course. He doesn't ask though, because Dave will tell him if he wants to talk about it. He changes the subject, talking about his plans for the weekend, what he's planning on cooking for his friends, a practical joke played on a rookie. Kurt listens attentively, adding his own pieces of conversation in, talking about his last few days of work, his own plans for dinner out with friends tonight.

After he's hung up he spares another glance over to the corner. His visual conferencing gear is set to record all conversations, so that he can refer back to them if needed while working. The idea of having that kind of  _conversation_  with Dave, and having it recorded so he can refer back to it at any time… _fuck_. It would be his own personal porn. However he couldn't record Dave without him knowing, and there's no way he's asking him  _now_ , especially considering how quickly Dave just assumed he had perverted intentions. Kurt would at least like to  _seem_ less perverted than he actually fears he is. Not that Dave seemed to mind. Huh. Actually, he seemed more than happy to go along with it. He considers that and grins slowly.

* * *

Monday morning doesn't start well, he slept in and missed his morning swim, and someone has burnt the coffee, so he has the bitter burnt taste lingering in his mouth and he's regretting not stopping at his favourite coffee shop on his way into work. There are two case files on his desk, and a quick perusal has left his stomach churning. He only spares Karen a quick glance when she walks into their office, eyes bright with excitement, brandishing a glossy magazine. Dave doesn't care why she's in such a good mood, but he's pretty certain her attitude is going to rub off on him. It's always done so before.

"I feel so cool right now!" Karen exclaims as she lays the magazine down on his desk, and Dave looks at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Cool? You're so out of touch with today's youth," Dave says, but he can't help a small grin.

"Shut up! Look! It's Kurt!"

And of course Dave's interest is immediately snared and he picks up the magazine. It's open to the trashy ' _spot the celeb_ ' page, and indeed there is Kurt, eyes furious as he glares at the photographers, and Dave's stomach drops as he takes in the arm he has around the other guy in the picture, like he's trying to protect him, other hand out like he's about to push someone out of the way.

"I know someone famous!" Karen is saying, but her voice sounds far away.

Dave reads the caption ' _Reese Walker and his mysterious friend_ '. Dave isn't sure what is so mysterious about Kurt, but then he realises who the other man is. The picture isn't clear, his head is ducked and Kurt's body is partially shielding him, but Reese Walker is the fucking quarterback for the Steelers, and Dave would recognise the name anyway, especially seeing as Reese Walker was outed last week in such a spectacular fashion, the clip too racy to be shown on news channels, but it's all the sports news have been leading with for the last five nights.

Last week he'd felt for the guy, not only being outed, but so clearly against his wishes and obviously not prepared for the media storm it would create. Now though, seeing this picture, he isn't sure what to think. He wants to ring Kurt and ask him. Find out when it was taken, what it means.

"You have a thing for him…" Karen says, her voice penetrating through the fog that has entered his mind and he looks up at her from studying the picture. He's not going to find answers there.

"I…we have a thing for each other. I just… he hasn't mentioned…this."

"There's nothing there, they're leaving a restaurant together, not a hotel. They're probably just friends."

Dave looks at her incredulously, wondering if she actually believes what she's saying. She shrugs, and takes the magazine off his desk.

"If he hasn't told you anything about him, then there's obviously nothing to tell. Just go with whatever is logical," Karen informs him and Dave bites back a groan.

"Yeah, 'cause that's worked so well for me in the past," he mutters.

When he receives the usual good morning text message from Kurt he ignores it. He needs to think. He trusts Kurt. If Kurt has met someone he wants to be with; he'd tell him, that's their fucking  _agreement_. But Kurt hasn't mentioned Reese Walker  _at all_ , which makes his stomach and heart both ache. He hasn't felt this insecure in years, but Kurt has always been able to build him up with a look and cut him down with another, although Dave doubts Kurt is aware of it.

* * *

Monday slips into Tuesday and Kurt is starting to feel annoyed. Dave is either hurt, or avoiding him. If he  _is_  hurt, he's sure Mercedes would have called and told him. So he's being passively avoided. No responses to text messages and his calls are going straight to voicemail. He doesn't leave any messages, but he's sending plenty of texts, and he knows they're getting shorter and angrier, but he can't help it. It's been three and a half days since they spoke last, which is the longest they've gone since Thanksgiving. He'd be fine with it, if he knew  _why_.

He tries Dave's phone one last time before calling Mercedes to get Mike's number. It's a Tuesday night, they're meant to be at training, so Mike can pass his bloody phone to Dave because he  _is_  going to speak to him. Except when he answers Mike isn't at training. He's at work, and Kurt can hear hospital-like sounds in the background when he answers.

"Hi Mike, it's Kurt."

"Kurt?" Mike asks, and he sounds a bit bewildered as to why Kurt is calling him.

"Yeah, sorry to call you at work," Kurt says, and he's not really sorry, and he knows Mercedes would have told him Mike was working if he'd allowed her to get a word in edgeways when he spoke to her, but he has more important things to think about right now.

"It's fine…is everything alright? Is Mercedes okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. I called her just before to get your number. I was hoping you'd be at training so you could put Dave on."

"Uh…" Mikes awkward non-statement tell him everything he needs to know.

"So, he  _is_  avoiding me. Any idea why?"

"Uh, well…he thinks that maybe you're with Reese Walker now…?"

"Oh, for fucks sake," Kurt spits, and he's going to  _kill_  that photographer.

Saturday night had turned into a circus. Cassie had begged him to take Reese out to dinner with his friends, saying he needed some time to relax in the company of people who didn't care that he was gay. Never again. Reese had got ridiculously drunk, made a pass at Brett (much to the amusement of Carson) and then noted the photographers and wanted to go and punch them all. Kurt had ended up leaving dinner early and driving a comatose Reese back to Cassie and Renee's. After the three of them had carried (half-dragged) his unconscious form inside Kurt had informed them that their brother needed professional help, because he had some serious issues.

And now  _this_.

Kurt is not going to lose Dave over that fucking bloody useless waste of space, and Dave should  _know_  that. Feeling only slightly melodramatic he calls the airline company and books a flight to Chicago, glad that he doesn't have to worry about money anymore, because there are only first class seats left on the one flight that suits him time wise. The flight isn't until tomorrow afternoon, Kurt still needs to work, but hopefully he can have a few days in Chicago and knock some sense into Dave.

* * *

Dave flicks through the text messages from Kurt. There's about twenty now, and they range from ' _Morning. Hope you slept well_ ,' to ' _Are you ignoring me?_ ' to ' _You're an idiot Dave Karofsky_.' The last was received last night, about an hour after his last missed call from Kurt, and  _fuck_ , he  _is_  an idiot. He knows why he's been avoiding calls from Kurt. He thought that if he gave Kurt the chance to talk to him, what they have together is over. But he's wrong, because Kurt wouldn't repeatedly be calling and texting if he was about to dump Dave, or terminate their agreement, or what-the-fuck-ever. At least hadn't been, except Dave's been ignoring him. Oh fuck fuck  _fuck._

His fingers feel thick and clumsy as he thumbs through to Kurt's contact number and selects call. He holds it to his ear and his hand is shaking. When it continues ringing and then goes to voicemail he bites his lip, and hangs up halfway through Kurt's professional spiel. He has no idea what to say. He doesn't like saying sorry. Not the small type of sorry, when you accidentally bump into someone, but the big type of sorry. The type which rips you apart inside because you know you're wrong, and you'd do anything to make it right, but a small five letter word doesn't seem enough. Because he might have just fucked everything up. He calls back and isn't surprised when it goes through to voicemail again.

"You're right… I am an idiot. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I…if you call me I'll pick up. I promise. I just…am an idiot. A massive idiot. That seems my most valid and accurate defence right now. I really am sorry."

He almost ends with an  _I love you_  but manages to hold it back, because there's no way he's putting himself that far out there when he has no idea of how Kurt feels. Except for really pissed off at him. He has no idea if Kurt will even listen to his message. He might just delete it. He's thinking that depressing thought when his phone chimes and vibrates with a new message alert.

' _At least we agree on one thing. I.e. you are an idiot. Am busy today, but we ARE talking tonight. Clear your plans._ '

Dave lets out a long shuddering breath, filled with relief. Kurt's not ignoring him, and even though the idea of talking is making his stomach churn unpleasantly it's pretty much on par with how he's been feeling for the last few days anyway. At least tonight he will  _know_. He's feeling cautiously optimistic, but also expecting the biggest bitch fit from Kurt, because one thing he knows, and that is that Kurt does not like being ignored.

* * *

When Kurt lands in Chicago it's already seven in the evening. He hasn't told anyone he's coming, mainly because he wants to surprise Dave. Catch him off guard and gauge his response in person. Try and figure out exactly what the fuck Dave had been thinking. He's had to find out Dave's address, but having Mike's number is coming in handy. He's given the address to the taxi driver and hopes it won't take long to get there. He's filled with a weird sense of déjà vu from the last time he came to Chicago four months ago, and he can't believe it's only been four months, because it feels like so much longer.

When the taxi pulls away from the curb Kurt glances up at Dave's apartment building. There are Christmas decorations brightening the dark windows, and Kurt's pretty sure it's starting to snow and he's not bought a proper winter jacket. Fucking LA making him forget what real winters are meant to feel like. He strides towards the door to the building, managing to catch it when there are people both entering and exiting. When the couple who entered the building with him ask him what floor he replies easily and they swipe their security dongle. Kurt can't believe how relaxed the security is. They wish him Merry Christmas when they exit the lift after three floors and Kurt returns the greeting, suddenly shocked to realise that it's only a week or so until Christmas.

He stands in front of Dave's apartment door, suddenly nervous about turning up unannounced. He hasn't organised another place to stay, because he'd just assumed…but, he really shouldn't have. They aren't a couple with automatic rights to each other's beds when they turn up, although he has no doubt that's where he's going to end up. He needs to stop worrying. He knocks on the door.

* * *

Dave hears the knock but doesn't move from his position on the couch. He's not expecting anyone, and if any of his neighbours want to borrow a cup of sugar then they can find someone else to hit up. He's not taking a chance of missing Kurt's call, eyes flicking to his phone every few seconds from the book he is reading, and he's checked the volume is on four times already. The second round of knocking is sharper and Dave frowns, still not moving. Then there is a sharp thump, some more knocking and he has to go and investigate, because he's  _curious_  now. When he peers through the peephole to see Kurt scowling at his door his fingers fly on the latch and lock, pulling the door open to reveal a very angry looking Kurt Hummel. He looks  _amazing_  and Dave grins.

"Hi," he breathes and he knows his eyes are probably bright and betraying exactly how he feels right now but he can't bring himself to care. Because Kurt is here, standing in front of him.  _Real_.

"Hi. Idiot. Going to let me in?"

Dave shakes himself mentally and steps aside. Kurt walks past him just far enough to place his small piece of luggage beside the door and shut it before turning to Dave, pushing him against the wall and kissing him. Dave goes with it, because if this is the talking Kurt had in mind then he can get behind it. And he really is feeling like an idiot for all his worries now, given that Kurt is pushed up against him, hands at his waist, sucking on his lower lip and…

"Hi again…" Kurt says, pulling away.

"Hi. Fuck it's good to see you. But what are you doing here?"

"To see  _you_  obviously. And  _talk_  to you. Seeing as you weren't answering your phone I had to take drastic action. You're such a drama queen…"

"Wha…? Me?" Dave says, and then he supposes he has been, maybe, just a tiny bit, but he prefers being called an idiot. He'd always figured Kurt would be more of a drama queen, but he apparently makes grand gestures, like flying halfway across the country just to talk.

"You obviously came to your senses this morning, but I booked my flight last night, and it was non-refundable non-negotiable so here I am. Starving. You have to feed me. And then you have to talk to me. Or talk to me while you feed me. I'm not fussy."

Kurt's rambling and the simple fact that he's  _here_  make Dave's fingers curl around Kurt's waist, pulling him in close again. Dave starts a pattern of nipping and sucking and licking down Kurt's throat until he hears an appreciative moan and feels a thrust against him. The fact that Kurt is here, that he's made all this effort to just slap some sense into him in person, well… Dave isn't sure if Kurt realises it, but that means something to Dave. It means a lot. Because now, well now he's pretty sure Kurt has feelings for him. Even though he doubts those feelings have been realised by Kurt himself Dave can't resist a mental fist pump.

"You like Thai food right?" he asks, pulling away, and Kurt stares at him with a look of incomprehension for a split second before nodding. "Prawns?" Dave asks and receives another nod.

* * *

Kurt lets himself be led into Dave's kitchen and sat on the bench top in a slightly out-of-the-way spot. He watches as Dave cuts fresh vegetables, mixes some herbs and coconut cream together, adds some prawns and suddenly his mouth is watering, the smell of ginger and coriander causing his taste buds to riot. He's letting Dave work in silence, not wanting to distract him while he has a sharp knife in his hands, but also giving him time to order his thoughts.

When Dave sets a plate in front of him no less than fifteen minutes later Kurt is impressed. He'd never be able to create something so quickly with no prior knowledge of someone turning up for dinner. In fact, he'd never be able to create something that quickly period. He obviously needs to take lessons.

"So, now you talk," he instructs, before forking the first mouthful of creamy-spicy curry into his mouth. Dave leans against the bench, shrugging uncomfortably and Kurt frowns and decides to open up the path of communication with a tyre iron. "Why did you ignore me?"

"I…saw a picture of you and Reese Walker leaving a restaurant together and I was an idiot…"

"Clearly…" Kurt mutters, but he wonders how he'd have responded if he'd seen a picture of Dave and someone else. Even with their non-relationship status, he'd have felt… _something_. But he's far more likely to ring up screaming and demanding an answer. Unlike Dave, who apparently goes quiet and thoughtful before realising he's being an idiot. Or being  _told_  he's being an idiot.

"I just…" Dave shrugs and Kurt watches, chewing. "He's fit, attractive, famous…I can…see why you'd want to be with him. You seemed to fit, in the picture I mean…"

"Dave…" Kurt starts, and he's not sure how to go on.  _I like you. I respect you and trust you._  "I would have  _told you_  if something was happening or even had the potential to happen. Fuck Dave, I like you, I wouldn't hurt you with something like that," Kurt says, and he almost adds  _with anything_ , because he doesn't want to hurt Dave. Ever. What a startling revelation  _that_  is.

"There's always potential for something to happen…You didn't tell me about him," Dave states, and his tone isn't accusatory at all, but Kurt frowns, because he knows he's talked about Reese, if only to complain about what a complete bastard he is.

"What? Yes I did. Cassie's brother."

" _What_?" Dave replies, and Kurt frowns, trying to recall now if he ever actually mentioned Reese's name. Obviously not.

"My friend Cassie? The arrogant piece of shit I told you about on Saturday morning?" Dave nods. "That's Reese Walker. The guy who I had to escort out of a restaurant because he got so drunk he kept on threatening to attack the photographers. And then me, Cassie and Renee had to get him into the house. Trust me when I say you have  _nothing_  to worry about where he is concerned. He is nowhere as nice on the inside as he is on the outside…"

"So you did notice."

"I'm not blind Dave. You clearly noticed as well…"

"I just…I'm an idiot. So Reese Walker is a jerk huh? Figures."

"Yes, idiot status definitely confirmed. Why does it figure?"

"He plays for the Steelers. He's useless."

"Uh huh…and what team do you support?"

"Chicago Bears."

Kurt bites back a smile of amusement about the whole  _bear_  reference, because Dave probably wouldn't find it nearly as amusing.

"So, if he played for the Chicago Bears, would he still be useless?"

"Erg, probably. Don't jinx my team like that…"

"Sorry," Kurt says mock seriously, and then a thought occurs to him. "In high school, did your game suffer when you were struggling with the whole coming out thing?"

"What? I…not my game so much, but my grades definitely did. What, you think that's what making him a shitty player? He could just be a shitty player you know."

"Maybe. But if it  _has_  been affecting his game… that's only got to be making him feel worse. Which would explain his absolutely terrible fucking attitude to everyone."

"Some people are just jerks," Dave responds. "You finished there?"

Kurt looks down at his empty bowl and nods, handing it to Dave to be rinsed and placed in the dishwasher. He's now curious about whether Reese truly is a complete arsehole through and through, or whether there are traits there which actually make it clear that he's related to Cassie and Renee. He stops caring very quickly though when Dave comes to stand in front of him, bracing a hand either side of his legs and leaning in.

"So, how long are you in town?"

"Well, I didn't buy a return ticket, so I don't know…"  _depends how long you want me here_.

"So…what do you want to do?" Dave asks him, and he's moved in closer so that he can feel Dave's breath whisper over his lips as he speaks.

"Well, my first job was to talk to you. Think we've cleared that little misunderstanding up?" Kurt asks, and they're so close he knows Dave has got to feel his own breath move over his face. Dave makes a quiet  _ah-hmm_  of agreement and Kurt  _tingles_. "Well then…my next step is to go into your bedroom and remove all of my clothes…with me so far?" Kurt asks, and he leans back, pushing Dave away from him slightly so he can see his face.

"I'm with you…" His voice is low and gravelly and he's watching Kurt closely. Kurt slides off the bench, moving so that he's pressing Dave against the bench instead.

"Well, once I'm in your bedroom and naked want to know what I'm going to do next?"

" _What?_ "

"Have a shower…" Kurt supplies, taking a step backwards away from Dave and he feels a tiny bit cruel, but he's more amused than anything. From the look on Dave's face he's torn between disappointment and amusement, but Kurt knows he's not going really going to be disappointed. He holds out his hand. "You coming?"

TBC...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note 2: Erm, just a warning for the next chapter – I don't prescribe to strict bottom/top roles. Just letting you know.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This starts exactly where the last chapter left off, so there's sex. Male-male sex if you've managed to get this far and not realised that fact. In fact, if smut bothers you, you might as well skip this chapter completely.
> 
> Thanks for all the reviews (och i svenska och norska också, jattekul!), I really appreciate them. Also, if you're bored, I drew a picture of Dave. It's on my LJ. Try not to die laughing. Sorry for mistakes/typos – I've only had 10 hours sleep in the last three nights.

 

**CHAPTER TWELVE - DECEMBER 2025 (part two)**

Dave's entire body is thrumming with energy, and he's pretty sure that there's an electric current flowing between their bodies. He recalls the last time they were together, his libido having a tug of war, pretty much against every other part of his consciousness. But Kurt's  _'god I want you to fuck me_ ' had toppled everything in his libidos favour, and only the lack of condoms had halted him because his logical mind still ruled complete.

He's assuming that Kurt wants exactly what he wanted last time, but he doesn't want to screw this up by assuming something so… integral. He's not sure whether to take control. It's what he  _wants_  to do, and while before tonight he had felt hesitant, he's feeling a lot surer of himself now. Not only are they in his apartment, but he has a more than adequate supply of lube and condoms, and also Kurt has travelled with the sole purpose of telling him he's an idiot, and that he doesn't want anyone else. And he doesn't care if he's paraphrasing, because he  _feels_  the truth of it.

They've made it to the bedroom, and Dave helps Kurt tug his t-shirt off. He works the buttons on Kurt's shirt, wondering if Kurt actually does want to shower or whether he was just using that as an excuse to get naked. Except for the fact that Kurt has never needed excuses before, and Dave doubts he's going to start now. Kurt's fingers rake down his chest and he can't help but twitch violently as Kurt catches his nipples. Kurt's working on the buttons of his jeans, tugging impatiently and Dave reaches for Kurt's pants only to find them already undone and open, resting on hips so that a quick tug have them falling to the floor. Kurt steps out of them without moving away from his task and kicks them, muttering about  _stupid fucking buttons, what's wrong with a bloody zip?_  and Dave lets out a low chuckle before batting Kurt's hand away and pulling the buttons open and yanking his jeans down.

Kurt's already pulling his underwear down and Dave mirrors the action and then they're standing there naked. Their hands are moving firmly, with purpose and they mesh their bodies together and Dave can feel their almost-hard cocks pressed between them. He's trying to remember what part it was of Kurt's body that made him gasp. He remembers wanting to explore it further. Kurt's fingers are curling in his chest hair and he's pulling his lower lip over Dave's five o'clock shadow that appears at lunchtime.

"So…shower?" Kurt asks and Dave groans.

"Apparently…we're just going to need another one afterwards anyway…"

"Mmm…maybe. But we're conserving water by showering together. And it's going to be  _fun_  getting dirty again…"

Dave can't help smiling, he's really coming to love this mischievous playful side of Kurt.

"Both good points," Dave concedes, but he doesn't move anywhere except to lower his head so he can start kissing along Kurt's neckline, licking along Kurt's collarbone and tasting the faint tang of sweat. He likes that there is no awkwardness between them, no embarrassment.

"Or you could just give me a tongue bath…"

"Multitasking," Dave murmurs in reply, grinning into Kurt's neck before placing another row of kisses on the other side of his neck

"Mmm… _shower_ ," Kurt insists, and Dave has to give him points for single-bloody mindedness. He just hopes he hasn't left wet towels or dirty laundry lying about. Not that it's a habit, but there's the occasion when he's rushed, or misses the laundry basket.

"Fine…lead the way," he sighs.

He leans back on the vanity, resting on his hands to avoid the cool porcelain and watches as Kurt turns on the water, lays out the bathmat and takes two towels from the cupboard and places them within reaching distance of the shower. The light of the bathroom is bright and harsh; he can see faded tan-lines on Kurt's arms, which he hasn't noticed before, freckles on his shoulders, indentations around his lower legs where his socks have been cutting in. The curve of Kurt's back and arse, the lean strength apparent in his thigh muscles, he feels like he's noticing everything for the first time, hyperaware.

Kurt checks the water and then smoothes a crease out of the top towel before turning towards him, and he looks almost shy, but he steps toward Dave with confidence, eyes flickering with desire-anticipation. Dave closes the gap between them, head lowering to catch Kurt's mouth with his own, because he knows where this is going; he knows there is no more waiting or delaying, and thank fuck for that, because his patience has run out. He follows Kurt when he takes a step backward toward the shower and then they're covered in slightly too-hot spray.

Kurt's humming appreciatively under the warmth and Dave thrusts against him, his hands on Kurt's hips. They haven't stopped kissing, hands roaming and Dave's not sure of what the plan is exactly, shower sex isn't exactly practical when there are no supplies in here. He opens his eyes to see Kurt reaching for his body wash and he can't help but feel a bit…miffed.

"You really are determined to get clean huh?"

Kurt's eye shoot to his, and he's frowning and Dave bites his tongue, stomach clenching that maybe he just sounded a bit too pissed off at not being the sole focus of Kurt's attention.

"I've had a long day. A  _really_  long day. And then a four hour flight. I won't relax properly until I'm clean… You could  _help_ you know," Kurt states, holding out the bottle and Dave takes the not-so-subtle hint. He lathers up his hands and begins washing Kurt's shoulders and back. Slowly, giving Kurt plenty of time to stop him, he slips a soapy finger between Kurt's arse cheeks, and the slippery slide of Kurt's body against him in response is a fucking turn-on of epic proportions, as if Kurt naked and wet weren't enough.

" _Mmm_ … definitely need washing there," and Dave huffs a quiet laugh. Kurt turns back to face him, taking both their cocks in his hand and stroking languidly and firmly. Dave lets out a groan of approval, but he wants  _more_. Wants this drawn-out torture  _over_. He's not going to last as long as he wants to the first time he takes Kurt to bed, he knows it. All their short hot encounters are evidence of that, and it's been too long since he's been with Kurt, and longer since he's actually been inside anyone and…even the knowledge that that's where this is heading has him groaning and grinding against Kurt. And then Kurt is pulling away and… _fuck._

"I thought we were going to do this in a bed," Dave murmurs as he watches Kurt lower himself to his knees in front of him, because he really wants to get to a bed, before this is over before it even starts.

"Oh, we  _are_ , this is just to take the edge off…"

* * *

"Oh fuck…" Dave mutters and Kurt grins, hands reaching up to run down the length of his chest, stomach and thighs. He's fascinated with the way the water has created little paths in Dave's chest hair, making it darker and more defined and all arrowing downward towards his dick. He's not going to waste time, this is, in his mind, just the entrée. And while entrées need to be savoured, there's always the main meal to look forward to. Hands on Dave's thighs he licks a long stripe up the underside of Dave's cock.

He likes giving blowjobs, he feels a sense of power when the guy he's with falls apart and he knows that Dave is no exception. He grips Dave's cock in his hand, stroking firmly and opens his mouth, catching the warm water until his mouth is full. Closing his lips tightly he straightens slightly and then presses the head of Dave's cock against his lips, tight, and the sounds Dave is making above him are all appreciative. He swallows some of the water carefully, increasing the suction and pressure and starts moving his tongue, one hand stroking the shaft of Dave's cock while his other hand is on Dave's hip, fingers splayed over firm muscles.

Sometime in the future he's going find out two things, one being to see how fast he can get Dave to come by blowing him, and the other to see how long Dave can last before he  _begs_. Now though he wants to go for fast. They'll have time after to go slow, build the tension and arousal back up. He was serious when he said they were taking the edge off, because he wants their first time to  _last_ , because fuck, they've waited long enough, so he's going to make sure it's as spectacular as he can.

He swallows the rest of the water, and starts massaging the head, his tongue running repetitive circles and dipping into the slit. He moves his hand slightly faster, matching the pace with his tongue and mouth. When he looks up Dave's head is thrown back, as if the sight of Kurt is too much. He slides his other hand down to cup Dave's balls, which are hot and tight in his palm. Dave hasn't stopped with the little noises and Kurt wishes he had a third hand right now, because he wants to jerk himself off.

He only hopes that Dave is just as close. He stops sucking, moving his hand in a fast-firm blur before releasing his hold and resuming the sucking again, this time relaxing his throat and sliding Dave's cock all the way in before resuming some movement, carefully regulating his breathing.

" _Fucking hell Kurt…_ "

Kurt smiles inwardly, feeling ridiculously pleased. He can tell Dave's close, his legs are trembling and he's thrusting in that careful way, trying to hold back. Kurt has no patience for holding back, not now, and he digs his nails into Dave's thigh, and then he's coming, swearing and muttering Kurt's name like a prayer. Kurt swallows, licks and sucks gently before sliding Dave's cock from his mouth. He stands, body sliding up Dave's. His knees are stiff and will likely be bruised from the tiles, but he doesn't care.

" _Fuck_ …" Dave says again, and Kurt licks his shoulder, thrusting against him as a gentle reminder that they aren't done. He already knows what a completely unselfish man Dave is both in and out of bed, and he can't help but compare him to Alex, and Dave wins out every single time, and that makes Kurt wonder what the hell he'd been doing with a guy like that for so long.

"Tell me…tell me what you want," Dave says into his neck, almost breathless and Kurt shivers.

"Anything. Everything. Just… _you_ ," Kurt replies, and for a second he feels like he's talking about something else, but Dave's hand wraps around his cock and all thoughts dissolve. Dave's kissing him, tongue moving in and around his mouth, and Kurt knows what that tongue is capable of now, and  _that_ memory causes him to thrust faster into Dave's fist. He'd been close before, and he doesn't want to draw this out, but he's enjoying the feel of Dave's fingers wrapped around him, the slide of their lips as they kiss.

"Gorgeous…so fucking  _gorgeous_ ," Dave mutters in his ear and Kurt groans, feeling ridiculously narcissistic because it sounds like Dave truly believes what he's saying, and Kurt hasn't felt so desired or wanted in  _years_. "Want to watch you come for me…"

"God,  _fuck_ , not…not going to be a problem…" Kurt gasps, and Dave's definitely watching him, eyes flicking from his face to his cock and back, and Kurt lets go, the tight pressure in his stomach and balls releasing in a sudden rush that makes him sag against Dave.

"Okay?" Dave asks, his voice whisper quiet.

"Yeah. More than okay. Missed that,"  _missed you_ , he adds mentally, and tenses slightly when he realises he  _has_  missed Dave. Not just the sex, but the text messages and the phone conversations, and it was only two bloody days. He forces himself to relax before rinsing himself completely. He runs his fingers over Dave's chest again, notices the twitch of muscle as he runs a nail over a nipple. Ah yes,  _ticklish_. He remembers now.

"So, that edge taken care of then?" Dave asks, shutting off the water.

"Mmmhmm. Can enjoy the rest of it now…"

"Rest of it? What makes you think there's going to be a rest of it?" Dave asks, and Kurt's pretty sure he's joking. He  _hopes_  he's joking. A quick glance and he's right, Dave is trying not to laugh, holding out one of the large fluffy towels to him. Kurt pokes out his tongue, feeling juvenile, but he's happy and comfortable.

"Do you want me to shave?"

Kurt looks up, surprised at the out-of-the-blue question, and he can't be sure, but it looks like Dave's  _blushing_.

"Are you blushing?"

Dave shrugs in response, and yep, he's  _definitely_  blushing. Kurt doesn't get it, why would a simple question about shaving make Dave blush like this, especially after all they've done together, everything they've talked about. Besides Mercedes, Dave would probably be the person who understands him the most. The one he's the most honest with. And he's made it pretty fucking clear he likes stubble, well; he'd thought he'd made it clear.

"I like your stubble…"

"Clueless…utterly clueless" Dave mutters under his breath and Kurt huffs in annoyance.

"Hey, I'm not clueless. I really  _do_  like your stubble…"

"I had noticed," Dave replies dryly, and he's looking at the ceiling as if searching for strength. "You might like it, but your arse? Probably not so much…"

Kurt frowns, confused for all of a few seconds before understanding dawns, and then he's blushing, and it isn't the delicate brush on the apples of his cheeks which Dave somehow has, lucky bastard, but the full blotchy chest-neck-face blush and Dave's right, he  _can_  be clueless. But the fact that Dave didn't ask him outright, had blushed when asking the most innocuous question? Absolutely fucking adorable.

"Uh, not tonight…"

"What?"

"Don't shave tonight."

"Okay," Dave agrees, and he's gone all bashful, which Kurt can't help but find fascinating. Dave's usually so confident and sure of himself, but this whole night has been a bit of a revelation, that maybe Dave isn't as put-together as he appears all the time. It's reassuring.

* * *

He's trying not to feel too self-conscious wandering around his bedroom naked, even though Kurt's seen it all before, it feels different somehow. He takes out condoms and lube and places them on the bedside table, and Kurt's drawing back the sheets and blankets, piling them up at the foot of the bed. It feels weirdly clinical and detached, but at the same time his body is jittery with nerves. He doesn't know what to do, so he's watching for cues, because he's pretty sure Kurt's just going to tell him, he's not been afraid of telling Dave what he wants.

"You want to know something embarrassing?" Kurt asks, and he's kneeling on the bed, holding a hand out. Dave goes to him and Kurt pushes him so he's lying on his back and then straddles him, resting his arse over Dave's cock and starting up a gentle rocking motion that would drive him mad usually, but is instead just starting to build a slow-warm-heat.

"What? Is it funny?" Dave asks, and he runs his hands up Kurt's thighs, fingers brushing over slightly jutting hipbones.

"No. Not funny. Just…embarrassing. For me. You know that night back in August when we met again for the first time?"

Dave will never forget that night, or the week following, but he simply nods, wondering what Kurt has to be embarrassed about that he doesn't already know. Kurt's not looking at him, staring intently at Dave's bellybutton or hair or something that isn't his face.

"Uh, well…you know when I excused myself to use the bathroom?"

"Yeah…" Dave replies, and he has no idea where this could be possibly be going.

"Uh, well…Imayhavejerkedoffinyourbathroomthatnight."

Dave slows it down in his head and he raises his eyebrows when he finally deciphers it.

"Your first orgasm in my apartment and I'm not even involved?" Dave asks, torn between amusement and arousal. The sheer idea of Kurt being so turned on that he had to deal with it  _immediately_  is making him hard, although he can't for the life of him think what he'd done or said that night months ago that may have caused such a reaction.

"Well…uh…your picture kind of…was."

"Really? …that's kind of hot…" Dave says, thrusting up against Kurt and he responds by increasing the rocking ever so slightly. His cock is filling again, slowly but surely, lying heavy against him as Kurt moves.

"Mmm…it was. I really  _like_  that picture," Kurt states, and he draws his fingers down Dave's chest again, his fingers skating through the hair, and featherlight over his cock and Dave's starting to suspect that Kurt has a thing for his hair, although he suppose he seems equally interested in his cock.

"I'll let Greg know…get you a copy," Dave says, and he moves his hands to cup Kurt's arse, moving with him, enjoying the play of muscles in Kurt's thighs as they grip either side of him. Without saying anything Kurt's telling him what he wants.

"Mmm…" Kurt mumbles and grasps his own cock, giving it a few long strokes before insinuating a leg between Dave's and lowering himself so that they're lying chest to chest, semi-erect cocks nestled together between their bodies. The rocking motion continues, less than before, but the pressure-release sensation is just enough to re-start the build-up of pressure in his cock. Kurt kisses him, slowly and thoroughly, tongue sliding past lips, hot moist and warm breath.

"So, you going home for Christmas?' Kurt asks, and he drags his lower lip over Dave's stubble and groans. Dave shudders at the sound and the realisation that Kurt not only likes his stubble, but is actively getting off on it.  _Fuck._

"Uh…yeah…I mean, I  _have_  to, just… fuck that feels  _good_ ," Dave mutters as Kurt starts thrusting against him with more pressure and Kurt hums in agreement.

"Mmm… why do you have to?" Kurt asks, placing little nipping kisses along his collarbone.

"I…for Mike…just…in case…mmm… just in case she says no…"

"Wait.  _What_?" Kurt stops moving and sits completely upright, staring down at Dave with wide eyes and mouth gaping. Dave stares back at him with what he suspects is an identical expression.

" _Fuck._  Oh fuck, you can _not_  say anything. Shit, he'll  _kill_  me…"

"Oh my god, ohmygod, oh my GOD! He's going to propose?"

"Yeah, now… you think you can you maybe freak out over it later?" Dave asks, hands clamping down on Kurt's thighs, and he knows it might be an impossible ask, so he's just going to have to…give him something better to think about. He moves rapidly, not so fast as to unseat Kurt, but fast enough to catch him slightly unawares in the shocked state he's in. He sits up, bending a knee so Kurt can rest against it if he needs to, before turning and twisting so that they're lying on their sides facing each other.  _Better._

He continues the roll, urging Kurt onto his back and stares down at him, and he's pretty sure all thoughts of Mercedes and Mike are gone, because he's staring again, but this time he's completely focussed on Dave. He leans down and catches Kurt's mouth, sucking on the bottom lip hungrily. The hand he's not using to prop himself up reaches for their cocks, and he moves to align himself better with Kurt so he can stroke the both of them together. Kurt's thrusting up into his hand, eyes intense and focussed and Dave can't help but gloat a little internally.

* * *

Kurt's body is tingling, and he's going to feel wind burnt tomorrow, Dave's stubble is like fine sandpaper and he seems to have picked up on Kurt's… _fascination_  with it. Dave's dragging his cheek over his chest, and then following the same path with a broad swipe of his tongue and then peppering little kisses. It's having the cumulative effect of making his skin extra sensitive, and he'd been  _joking_ when he'd mentioned a tongue bath, but that's what it feels like Dave is doing, tasting every part of him as he moves down Kurt's body.

Dave's chest hair drags across the head of his cock and  _god_  it's like thousands of tiny little feathers, and the sensation would be ticklish if he weren't so fucking aroused right now. For him this type of arousal is slow building, and he can get to a state where he's so aroused he can stay that way for what seems like hours, and the resulting orgasms are  _intense_  and he'd put money on this one being no exception. He can feel Dave's cock, warm-heavy-firm against his leg and yeah, there's nowhere else he'd rather be right now.

Dave runs his tongue over Kurt's right hipbone and he almost jumps out of his skin. That particular patch of skin has always been extra sensitive, and it's as if Dave had been searching for it, because he mumbles something, although Kurt has no idea what. He can feel the tension and pressure building up in his cock and fuck it feels good. All warm prickly anticipation, skin tight with heat and  _god,_ it's as if Dave can read his mind, because there's a spit-slick thumb sliding between his arse cheeks and massaging his hole. He automatically draws his legs up to give Dave better access.

"God, fuck, just… it's been awhile," he mutters, and he's not sure if he wants Dave to go faster or slower or what, just as long as he doesn't stop.

"Yeah, I know…for me too," Dave says, voice quiet and Kurt's pretty sure he's gone all serious and sombre so he thrusts up slightly, cock knocking against Dave's chin and he gets a long broad lick for his efforts, and  _fuck_  he really needs to get this moving. He hears Dave's muttered ' _should've fucking shaved'_  and bites his lip in amusement, because they're clearly on the same wavelength. Dave's moving, reaching for the lube and condoms, stopping to kiss Kurt, staring at him intently for a brief second and then kissing him again.

"Like this?" Dave asks when he breaks away, and Kurt blanks for a second, wondering why they've stopped, and then he nods, because yes,  _exactly like this_. He watches, quiet, as Dave squirts some lube onto his fingers, and then his thumb is at his hole again, resuming the circling massage and applying gentle pressure. Kurt wants to push, but as long as Dave doesn't muck about he's willing to be patient. For now.

Thankfully Dave doesn't waste time, but neither does he rush, and it's maddening, because now that this is happening, Kurt wants it so badly he's becoming impatient. When the first finger slips inside he does bear down, more than ready for it, and they're both making appreciative groans, and Kurt likes the sound of them together. Dave moves his finger in and out, his other hand gentle on his hip, occasionally stroking over the same patch of skin as before, his eyes on Kurt's face, watching. He obviously sees something, because then there are two fingers, pushing stretching and scissoring and Dave's mouth is on his cock, but he doesn't need the distraction. The tight burn he's experiencing isn't painful, just uncomfortable, and he knows that that goes quickly enough. He's thrusting as much as he can against Dave's hand, trying to convey that it's okay, that he's okay. Twisting fingers, and then his prostate is being treated to the same massaging sensation and gentle pressure and  _holy fuck_ …

"Fuck, yes,  _there_ …"

"Mmm…"

"God,  _Dave,_ now… _please_."

Dave's fingers slide out; he tears open a condom and has it on before Kurt can do it. He doesn't stop to ask Kurt if he's sure, just watches him again, eyes dark and he moves with an assurance and confidence that Kurt can't help but find attractive. He drags his fingers down Kurt's body, all the way down his legs and then pushes his legs back and Kurt drops his head back, unable to watch because he just wants to  _feel_.

Dave's fingers are at his hole again, and he can feel the cool slide of more lube. Dave isn't hesitant, not worried about hurting him, managing to be firm and gentle and fucking sexy all at the same time. He can't help the gasp when Dave starts pushing, the stinging-stretch snapping into pinpoint focus before he forces himself to relax and push back. Dave's fingers have done a fair job, but he's starting to think he should have insisted on three fingers, because it has been five months after all. _Relax relax relax_. Dave isn't moving though, body still, his expression intent and he's biting his bottom lip so hard Kurt's sure he'll see blood any minute. He's still watching Kurt closely, and Kurt realises then that Dave's watching him for cues, and it seems so bloody obvious now that he thinks about it.

He doesn't want an in-control Dave watching his every facial expression to ensure he doesn't hurt him, or over-step some invisible boundary. He wants passionate Dave, the guy who loses all coherency. He doesn't hesitate then, wrapping his legs around Dave's waist, drawing him in.

"God. Fuck. Kurt. No.  _God_ …" Dave mutters, but his actions are at complete odds with his words. He sinks in slowly and Kurt tightens his legs, locking his ankles across each other and rocks his hips.

"No…I've waited too bloody long for this as it is, stop  _worrying_  so fucking much," Kurt snaps, because it  _hurts_ , and fuck, he might regret it tomorrow, but right now, he wants Dave to become undone, as he suspects he's seconds away from doing so himself. Dave stares at him for a few seconds, and Kurt can feel the brush of pubic hair against his arse cheeks, and then he's drawing back, groaning, head bowing and Kurt relaxes further.

The rhythm and pace that Dave starts with is slow and undulating, and he still manages, a bit awkwardly, to occasionally kiss and lick his chest, mumbling words under his breath.  _Fuck. Tight. So hot. God. Kurt._  Kurt loosens his legs, giving Dave more room to draw back and the careful measured thrusts soon give way to longer harder ones, and Kurt lets out a low appreciative moan, because fuck it feels good. Dave's body moving above him and in him; strong, powerful but only just in control. He runs his fingers up Dave's arms, nails sharp into his shoulder and then skittering through the hair on his chest. His breath is coming in short breathy pants, matching Dave's stuttered breathing. Dave's hands move to his hips, fingers firm as he manoeuvres each of his legs so that they're resting on his shoulders. The new position makes it feel like Dave is pressing even deeper, the angle when he pushes in drags across his prostate and Dave's flushed and shiny with sweat.

"Fuck Kurt… _fuck_."

"Yeah…" Kurt replies with an equally breathless tone. Their movements are getting slightly more frantic, although his own movement is restricted considerably, so he reaches for his cock, stroking rapidly and in-time with Dave as much as possible. Arousal is coiled tight in his stomach and balls, just waiting to be released.

"Oh fuck…you have  _no_  idea… _beautiful_ …"

Kurt's earlier feeling of narcissism returns, but he can't help it. If he had breath, he'd tell Dave how much he turned him on. How the clean strong lines of muscle in his arms and chest drive him to distraction. How his hair reminds him that he's with a man, someone vital and real, and not some jumped-up camp  _idiot_. How the feel of his fingers leave hot trails on his skin. How a simple act, like licking his fucking fork, can make Kurt hard in seconds.

"Close. Fuck.  _Close_ …" Kurt mutters, and Dave's eyes snap from watching Kurt's hand on his cock to his eyes, and they're wild with leashed power and he feels a momentary pang that Dave hasn't completely lost all control but he can't bring himself to care. Not really.

"Come. Fuck. Come for me…"

Kurt doesn't hesitate in letting go, feeling his whole body shudder and tingle and fuck, he's not used to coming on demand. He strokes roughly, trying to match Dave's now fierce pace, and then he's coming, calling out something, come rushing out of his cock as if it's being chased, aftershocks of pleasure shooting through him and his cock pulses as Dave continues to thrust into him.

After a few more thrusts, Kurt doesn't know how many, too busy watching Dave's chest and arm muscles when Dave lets out a  _'oh fucking hell'_  and comes. His fingers are almost bruising hard on Kurt's hips, and his cock is buried in his arse, small thrusting motions as he comes down from the high of his orgasm. His breathing is ragged, body shuddering from its release. He falls forward, a trembling hand stopping him from outright collapse, and he kisses Kurt hungrily, eager, as if they haven't just had sex. Kurt's legs fall to either side, stiff from the stretch of long-unused muscles.

"You good?" Dave asks, and his voice is raspy and scratchy and sounds far too appealing. Kurt nods and smiles, suddenly shy, which is  _stupid_ , but he suddenly feels ripped bare and exposed, as if Dave can see to his very core.

"Good. That was…amazing. You're amazing. Mmm…"

Dave lets out a long sigh beside his neck and then sits back up, still shaking slightly as he withdraws his cock and takes care of the condom. He lies down beside Kurt, side-by-side and mutters another  _'fucking hell'_  for good measure and Kurt feels a little smug. He knows logically it's probably been longer for Dave since he had sex, but he's pretty sure he has set the bar pretty high for anyone that plans to come after. He frowns at that mental image though but is distracted by Dave's fingers tracing over his hipbones.

"I like this part of you…so sensitive." His voice is sleepy and he sounds as if he's going to drop off to sleep at any second, and Kurt feels similar, but he'll need a few more moments. He feels like an overused-overstretched spring, all wobbly and wet-noodle like. He's going to feel well used tomorrow, but he loves that feeling, and it's been so long he's really going to relish it.

He curls into Dave's side, arm lying over his chest and eyes the tattoo. Kurt strokes the letters, one after the other. He knows he doesn't know the full story, but he's pretty sure it's not going to be a nice heart-warming tale, and he doesn't want anything intruding on tonight. Not that Dave is awake to answer his questions anyway. He just hopes he has plenty of other nights and days to find out.

TBC...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't actually the end of the chapter, but it needs to be because I have to go to bed. There will be a short-ish one-shot (~3,000 words and called 'Willow Seeds') of the rest of this chapter posted in the next day or so. It's Kurt topping, so feel free to avoid it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I strongly recommend you read 'Willow Seeds' before this chapter. (There is no "Willow Seeds" on my LJ, it is all just one (11,000 word) chapter.
> 
> For those interested there will be a Mercedes/Mike one-shot that can be read in conjunction with the following chapter. It has Mike's and Burt Hummel's view points, as well as Mercedes and Kurt friendship. It is titled "Mistletoe". (There's Kurt/Dave, just nothing explicit).

 

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN – DECEMBER 2025 – part three**

Ever since Karen turned up at his apartment with chicken soup to find him half naked and not looking the slightest bit sick she's been giving him shit. She'd arrived, genuinely concerned that he was at death's door and then Kurt had hammered the last nail in his coffin by walking out wearing nothing but one of Dave's shirts before yelping and running back into the bedroom when he saw Karen. All-day Friday she had sung ' _bow-chicka-wow-wow'_  every time he'd walked into their office. His pleas telling her to ' _grow the fuck up'_  had fallen on deaf ears. It's good natured though. She's crazy excited that he's getting laid, he's just grateful that he's left the craziness of the precinct behind him as he drives south.

His plans involve spending Chanukah with his dad tonight and tomorrow, and after seeing Kurt off at the airport only that morning and knowing he's going to be in Lima in two days as well will hopefully stave off his despair about the impending craziness he knows is coming. Jen is spending Christmas with Rob's family in Florida, which is usual when they've spent Thanksgiving with Jen's family. Pat though…Pat has invited her mom, Suzanne, to come and stay. Dave's sure that to anyone  _but_  Pat, they'd see how… _unwise_  that decision is. He can't imagine sitting at a dinner table with his dad's first wife and current wife and the conversation  _not_  being awkward, but then there's the fact that Suzanne is homophobic to boot, and always looks at Dave like he's about to jump on the nearest table and start doing a striptease. But that's what Pat has planned. Disaster.  _DISASTER._  And he's going to have a ring side seat.

And his dad, in  _his_  infinite lack of wisdom, (that's obviously where Pat gets it from) has invited Santana and Kate to spend Christmas with them. He's never understood his dad's blinkered view of Santana. The view that she's a  _nice girl_. Originally he'd though that his father liked her because she had the dubious title of being his one and only girlfriend. But that's not the case; he's listened in on their conversations, they talk legal speak, economics and about being with people who have jobs which put other people's lives ahead of their relationship. And then they drink scotch together. They do actually seem to genuinely like each other. Which is weird. But his mom and Kate get on amazingly well, so he knows he'll be able to slip out of the house and feel no guilt. And at least with them there he won't be the only one receiving the evil eye for being gay, although he doubts Santana will keep quiet. So there's that possible entertainment value to look forward to.

What he's  _really_ looking forward to is seeing Kurt again. He only saw him this morning, and Kurt has asked him to pick him up from the airport on Tuesday night, so it will be just over two days. And they're planning on talking tonight, but it's a poor substitute when he's had four consecutive nights with Kurt in his life. In his bed. Skin-on-skin when they've talked, and showered, casual brushes against each other while eating breakfast at the table. Comfortable silences while Kurt worked on his tablet, feet nestled in Dave's lap while he read a book. The words are dancing on the tip of his tongue, waiting to trip and tumble out.  _I love you_.  _I love you_.  _I love you_.

He's managed to keep his mouth shut on the matter though. In all the time they've just spent together Kurt hasn't made any mention of changing their non-relationship status. He  _knows_  it's a moot point for him, especially now, but he feels like he's in limbo. Waiting. Kurt's actions are  _screaming_  how he feels, but Dave doesn't think his head has caught up yet. So he's waiting. He's fairly certain that Kurt will catch up soon though.

There's only one black spot, and that's the distance between them, and he can't ignore it, but he also can't overlook the fact that he's more than willing to try and make it work with Kurt than he ever was with Greg, and he was with Greg for a hell of a lot longer than a couple of months. Maybe it's because LA is so much closer than London. Or they both have ties to Lima. Or his feelings for Kurt simply seem more intense than they ever did for Greg. He doesn't know, and it's frustrating, because he's starting to feel like he has this all figured out and then it slips a little in his mind. Doesn't change the facts though. He's in love with Kurt Hummel.

* * *

"Kurt. Hi."

Kurt's not impressed. In fact, he's pretty pissed off. Cassie has left him in the kitchen with Marcus while she goes to pack the rest of Jamie's things for an overnight stay. He wouldn't even usually be here, except they're having a mini-Christmas drink and nibbles evening with a whole raft of Renee's friends, most of whom Kurt has worked with at one point, so he knows it's going to feel a bit like he's at a wrap party or some other type of work function.

"Marcus," Kurt replies, smile tight.

"You're looking really good…new diet?"

Kurt doesn't hold back the eye roll, because he knows Marcus is trying to be complimentary, but it just makes his skin crawl unpleasantly.

"Actually I'm eating. And sleeping. Actually looking after myself for once, as opposed to looking after someone else."

"Oh…right. Okay…so…You're with Reese Walker now huh?"

Kurt stares at him in disbelief and then shakes his head, it's not worth the hassle.

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

"Well I'm glad. We want you to be happy…"

"Oh fuck off…" Kurt cuts in; he doesn't need to hear platitudes. "If you wanted me to be happy, or Cassie to be happy, then you would have thought with your head rather than your dick. I don't  _care_  that you guys are all loved-up and living the big gay American dream, but you should have had the common fucking decency to be honest and upfront and not sneak around and  _lie_. That's what pisses me off the most. Just…fuck off," Kurt states, and he stalks out of the kitchen, weaves past a few early-arrivers who are staring at him and Marcus with curious gazes and goes to find Cassie to see if she needs any help; before he breaks his wine glass on the side of the bench and stabs Marcus in the eye and give the people around something to  _really_ stare at.

* * *

Dave stares out at the brightly lit airstrip and watches the tiny flakes of snow fall in the beams of light. It's quietly pretty. He shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket, because the heating in the tiny airport terminal is only just enough to stop him being able to see his breath. Kurt's flight is running late. No surprises there. He hasn't bought anything with him to occupy his time, and the shops are all closed because it's almost eleven at night. So he's staring at falling snow.

When he finally sees the tiny twelve-seater plane bump down he lets out a little sigh of relief. He watches as the small group of people bundle off the plane and he recognises Kurt even from this distance. They all hurry inside to wait for the baggage handlers to organise the luggage, and when he catches Kurt's eye through the glass he can't help but smile widely. He watches as Kurt lifts his comparatively tiny little bag from the luggage trolley and strolls out to where he's waiting, weaving arms beneath his jacket and around his waist in a gesture that warms Dave right through.

"Mmm, I've missed you," Kurt says, nose icy against the warmth of his neck.

"I…missed you too…" Dave murmurs back, surprised. He never expected Kurt to come out and say something like that. It isn't a declaration of love, but it's enough.  _More than enough_.

"Come on, take me home…" Kurt says, and Dave really wishes that they  _were_  going home, and not to their respective parents' places, because  _that_ makes him feel far too young. Kurt is only in town for four nights, and is flying home ridiculously early on the twenty-seventh for reasons he's avoided explaining to him, and getting in so late tonight, that's he's barely here for three days as it is. Hence the airport-pick-up and drop-off, potentially the only time they will have to themselves.

As they walk to the terminal door he wants to throw an arm over Kurt's shoulders, but the choice is taken from him when Kurt loops his arm through Dave's, huddling his body close to Dave's, and Dave's pretty sure it's for protection from the swirling flakes of snow, but it doesn't stop him enjoying the sensation. He unlocks his car and puts Kurt's bag into the trunk and then Kurt's body is against his, chest against his back, arms wrapping around his waist again. He shuts the trunk and turns in the circle of arms, and then there are icy-cold lips on his and  _this_  is a proper hello.

Kurt's tongue is a hot contrast to his lips and  _god_  it feels good. He has no idea if they're going to be able to swing sex together at all in this little mini-break, but they're definitely going to manage  _something_ , because he can't be this close to Kurt and not  _want_. Their tongues are sliding against each other, and Dave turns their bodies, pushing Kurt against the car. This is probably the worst possible time and place, but he doesn't care, and Kurt obviously feels the same. He slides his leg between Kurt's and Kurt obliges by starting to rock against him, and Dave feels hysterical laughter bubbling up, because they can't seriously be considering doing this out in the open while it is snowing. And then he feels it. Vibrating. And then muffled ringing. And Kurt is swearing and his arms are untwining from around him and reaching for his jacket pocket.

"Hey dad." "Yeah, I've landed. The flight was delayed." "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry." "Yeah, he's here. We're just at the car actually." "Uh-huh." "Yes dad, I promise we'll drive safely."

Dave's listens to the one-sided conversation with mounting apprehension. He knows it's completely irrational, but Burt Hummel scares him. The thought of him just makes Dave feel like a small scared teenager all over again, and he's just realised that he's fucking the man's son. Doesn't matter that he loves him, he's just going to be the big-bad-bear whose defiling his precious baby-boy and  _fuck._  He's sure he's about to start hyperventilating. Judging from that phone call, Burt Hummel  _knows_  who is picking Kurt up, and Dave isn't ready. He'll never be ready.

"Dave? Are you okay?" Kurt asks, and he's looking at Dave with worried eyes. Dave tries to take a deep calming breath and the air freezes his lungs, but it makes him shake off the mini panic attack.

"I'm good, I just…does your dad know that it's me picking you up?"

"Of course. What's wrong?"

"I just… I'm pretty sure your dad hates me."

"Oh. Right. Well, for one, I don't think he hates  _you._  He hates the fact that I was bullied and he couldn't protect me  _way_  more…I don't think he made the connection between me saying  _my friend Dave_  and who you were in high school."

"Right. Okay. Well, that was an effective mood killer huh?"

"Yeah, and I'm getting all cold again now that you aren't warming me up…"

"Well, we better get going…before your dad gets even more worried."

"Yeah, he's waiting up for me…"

And there go Dave's hopes of a quick hand job or blowjob in the car. He's not going to be able to get off knowing that Burt Hummel is sitting at home waiting for Kurt. Well, he probably could, but he still doesn't want to think about it. He gets into the driver's side and Kurt reaches over and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. Dave quirks a questioning eyebrow at the gesture and Kurt just grins before sitting back in his seat and buckling himself in.

* * *

Kurt's relaxed. He's had a full body massage, manicure and pedicure as well as a facial. He doesn't have time or patience for them much anymore, except now he has to start taking care of his fingernails properly, and  _that_  thought makes him grin to himself.

"What are you smiling about?" Mercedes asks over her lunch, and Kurt looks up and smirks. He doesn't need to say anything more, she knows from the look on his face and she rolls her eyes and continues eating. When he'd been in Chicago last week he'd surprised her at work on Friday with lunch. Kurt had enjoyed it, being able to go from Dave's bed to having lunch with Mercedes. He'd even managed to get in a few hours of work in.

"So, you guys got plans?"

"Not really. We've both got family stuff. If we can fit something in around that then…that would be…good."

Mercedes snorts and eyes him warily, and Kurt has to bite his lip from saying anything about the proposal which he has  _sworn_  to keep secret. She has to know he's keeping something from her, he's just hoping she thinks it's something perverted and related to sex with Dave.

"So…apart from your impromptu trip to Chicago, how is your guys little work in progress?"

"It's good. Really good. But nothings really changed."

Mercedes is looking at him with a disbelieving look, and Kurt knows that he's missing something.

"Seriously Kurt? Nothing's changed? What world are you living in?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh my goodness. Kurt! You flew halfway across the country. You don't do that for just anyone."

"I'd do it for you."

Mercedes stares him down, and he freezes, because  _of course_  he'd do it for her, he loves her. Like he'd do the same for his dad, and Carol and Finn… and apparently Dave.

" _Fuck_."

"Oh honey…you didn't know?"

"I… _fuck_. I'm not ready for it. I'm just sorting myself out and getting some balance in my life and I'm really not ready to be in love and in a relationship and…oh god…" He feels like he's going to be sick.

"Kurt. Stop freaking out. For a start, you don't get to decide shit like this. Love just happens. You can't plan and organise love. Also, lucky for you Dave's going to hang around until you  _are_  ready…"

"What? What do you mean?"  
"Have you not noticed the way Dave looks at you? Not only is it positively indecent, but he adores you. Loves you probably. He'll wait."

"I…he…oh crap."

"What's so bad about that?"

"I just…we live so far apart."

"No worthwhile love story ever got it easy…" Mercedes replies and Kurt pokes his tongue out at her.

"Fuck. So I might love him a little bit. I just…"

"Kurt. Stop freaking out about it.  _Seriously._  You can't do anything to change it right now. If you guys want it, I'm sure you'll come up with a solution. You could always move to Chicago you know…"

Kurt sends her a mock glare, because they both know he needs to be in LA for work, but he'd truly enjoyed his three days in Chicago. Although he'd be the first to admit he enjoyed the four nights infinitely more.

* * *

Dave could kiss Santana right now. She's gone all on-fire toasted-marshmallow on his arse, fiery and burning on the outside and gooey sweet inside, shoving him out the door, saying they'll keep his parents occupied with scrabble or some shit, and he's now just got to spring Kurt from his family. He has no idea what they're going to do once they're free, because they have the same problem that they did at Thanksgiving. No place to go. It's eight at night on Christmas Eve and everything is pretty much closed. He freezes and grabs his phone, and seconds later he's set, driving across town to pick up some keys and promising to return them before Boxing Day.

Keys in hand and plan forming in his mind he texts Kurt  _'What are you doing right now?'_  and he gets a response pleasingly fast, telling him that Kurt probably isn't that tied up right now.  _'Was that meant to be a lead-up to sexting? Because if so, you failed.'_  Dave snorts in amusement, because it's not too far from the truth, except phones are  _not_  going to be involved.  _'Can you come out and play?'_  He waits, and then ' _I definitely can. When and where?'_ Dave flicks back a  _'On my way to pick you up now.'_  And with that he sets his phone down and drives across town again to Kurt's place.

When he pulls up outside he hesitates briefly, and then knows he can't just toot the horn and wait. He wants to make a good impression. Well, a  _better_ one. He gets out of his car and steps up the path to the front of the house, and if his hands are shaking slightly then he'll just blame the cold. He rings the bell and sure enough Burt Hummel comes to the door to answer it, even though he'd been secretly hoping Kurt would have beaten him to it.

"Uh, Hello Mr Hummel sir. Um. I'm here to pick up Kurt?"

"Are you? You don't sound so sure of that…" Burt replies. "You one of Kurt's friends from high school?"

"Uh, no. Not exactly. I'm Dave Karofsky."

Kurt's dad frowns at him and Dave's stomach churns, he knows how important this man is to Kurt, and if he gives the man more reason to hate him then he's screwed.

"Right. Nice to meet you," Burt says, and Dave automatically shakes the hand stretched toward him. "Kurt! Dave's here!"

"Yeah yeah…I heard the doorbell!" Kurt calls from somewhere and Dave bites his lip in amusement. When Kurt comes into the foyer Dave grins at him and Kurt looks between him and his father.

"Look. He didn't kill you…" Kurt says, and he shoots a cheeky grin at his dad, before giving Dave another little peck on the cheek. Dave's pretty sure he's blushing, and he hopes it just looks like his cheeks are red from the cold, because Kurt's just been full of surprises.

Kurt hops into Dave's car, stomach doing somersaults and he's trying to act as if everything is normal. It's easy enough to do via text and over the phone, but since his not-so-little revelation this afternoon (with Mercedes' help) he's been freaking out, despite Mercedes best efforts to distract him. And he just kissed Dave in front of his  _dad._  It was just on the cheek, but still. His dad is going to be all about the questions next time he sees him, and that's not good, because he's pretty sure he doesn't have any of the answers. In fact, he  _knows_  he doesn't have any answers, because he wants to equal parts climb into Dave's lap, pepper him with kisses and tell him, and the other parts are screaming at him to  _run_. Run as far away and as fast as possible. And the other part is saying  _act normal_ ,  _he won't notice_. He doubts that though. Dave seems to have a freaky level of awareness where he is concerned.

"So, where are we going?" he asks, and he's jittery with nerves. He sits on his hands, because that seems like a compromise between reaching for Dave and starting to undress him, or opening the car door and tumbling out of a moving car.  
"Uh…I'm taking you ice skating."

Kurt stiffens and stares at Dave.

" _What?_  No. Just… _no_. I don't need you laughing at me…"

"Kurt.  _Kurt._  I promise I won't laugh. And the rink is closed, so no one else is there either. Just you and me…"

" _What?_  How did you manage to swing that?"

"A man has got to keep some mystery you know…"

"And this man refuses to end up in jail for breaking and entering on Christmas Eve," Kurt states, and he's trying to think of anything that can get him out of this.

"Kurt, I'm a cop, do you seriously think…?" He flicks his eyes to Kurt and Kurt stares at him with a cocked eyebrow, because he doesn't  _really_  believe Dave would break into an ice rink, but he's not going to make this easy for him. Dave lets out a huff of indignation. "Fine, one of my old buddies from high school is the manager there now, and I asked him…it may have been a while since I've been skating, but I promise I won't let you fall okay?"  
"That's a lot of promises David Karofsky…"

"Well, I mean them," Dave says, and Kurt's stomach does another flip, the intense look on Dave's face back up his words.

"Well then. Okay. Only because you have a vested interested in protecting my arse," Kurt says, trying to lighten the tone. He doesn't need an intense smouldering sexy Dave right now, he's struggling enough. Dave chuckles as he pulls into the empty parking lot outside the ice skating rink.

Kurt's all nervous energy and he doesn't need to be a genius to know something is up. He won't call Kurt on it though, because he suspects. And if he's right, then Kurt's probably freaking out and he wouldn't be doing either of them any favours by drawing attention to it. So he'll distract him, and then he'll distract him some more.

"Your arse is worth protecting. Now come one," Dave states, jingling the rink keys in his pocket and Kurt follows him reluctantly.

He opens the side door and goes to deactivate the alarm, following the instructions he's been given. He turns on the star-effect overhead-lights for the rink and turns to look at Kurt. He's standing there, arms crossed, watching him.

"You're going to make me put on hire skates aren't you…" he mutters with a dejected sigh.

He walks over to Kurt, places hands on his hips and tugs him forward so their bodies are pressed against each other. It's not as late or as cold as last night, and there's no danger of being interrupted.

"If you really don't want to I'm not going to make you…but…I think you need to give it a chance." And he's not just talking about ice skating.

Kurt slides hands around him, resting his head on Dave's chest and lets out a long breath, and Dave loves him like this, when he can literally  _feel_  Kurt relax against him, like his simple existence makes Kurt feel relaxed and he doesn't need any other excuse to just  _be_  right now. He firms his grip on Kurt's hips and presses a kiss to the side of his head.

"We could just…make out."

"We could. I'm okay with that…" Dave says, and Kurt's fingers are working at his un-tucking his t-shirt from his pants beneath his jacket, and Dave goes with it. He  _would_  really like to skate, but there's always one of the rinks in Chicago, and weighing up skating versus Kurt…well, it's no competition. Although he's pretty sure they won't be limiting themselves to just making out. Then he remembers why he chose here, and he pulls back.

"I want to show you something, then we'll get right back to this okay?"

"Okay…" Kurt agrees, although he sounds reluctant.

Dave leads him through the dark corridors, lit only by emergency lighting, Kurt's hand in his. When he pushes through the final door to the main area for the public he hears Kurt's little sharp intake of breath and smiles, suddenly feeling shy, because he's always considered this place special, especially when it's lit like this, thousands of tiny lights twinkling up on the ceiling and the rest of the rink dark and silent.

"Oh my god…this is beautiful."

His body relaxes, because Kurt's looking around in wonder, eyes reflecting the tiny sparkles of light and he looks entranced, which Dave had secretly been hoping for. He's not sure if he can admit out loud that he used to come here when he was a teenager and think about bringing a date here. In his dreams he'd made the date Kurt, and occasionally even Blaine, but he'd also kept those dreams firmly bottled, because he hadn't been out and never thought he'd bring any guy here. Except now, he's here with Kurt, and that's the most important thing.

"How long has it been like this? I don't remember it looking like this…"

"They finished it the end of our junior year. I used to come here and think. It's…relaxing."

"It's  _romantic_. I kind of wish I  _could_  skate…it's so pretty…"

"Up to you…" Dave murmurs, taking Kurt in his arms again, and it's his turn to tug Kurt's shirt free from his pants. He peers at the buttons and buckles on Kurt's jacket and ignores them for now, fingers skating over skin and Kurt's wearing what feels like  _four_  layers under the damn jacket.

"Let's skate…just so when my dad asks what we did I can say it without lying."

"Okay," Dave breaths, and he steps back again, because now he's going to get both some skating and some Kurt, which pretty much makes this the perfect Christmas Eve. He takes Kurt behind the skate hire kiosk and they select skates in their sizes. He watches as Kurt pulls them on and laces them loosely. He does his own, then kneels at Kurt's feet, winks, and redoes his laces, making sure the boots are firm and tight and not going to slip off and end with Kurt breaking his ankle.

"You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Kurt replies, and he's actually looking a bit excited.

Dave stands easily, balancing and holding out a hand for Kurt to help him stand. He stands easily enough, and Dave knows Kurt has a natural grace and excellent sense of balance. In theory that should translate out onto the ice, but apparently not. Still, he's sure he can get Kurt to do a couple of laps holding his hand at least. He leads Kurt to the ice, and places his hands on the side rail.

"Just stay here for a few minutes okay? I'm just going to give myself a couple of laps to remind myself…" Dave states, and he steps out onto the ice and _flies_.

He's always loved the ice. The lack of friction beneath his feet, the speeds he can get up to, the sheer physicality of hockey. He sprints around the rink, and the ice is shiny smooth, freshly polished and it's like muscle memory, all coming back. He completes three laps before coming to a halt in front of Kurt, who is looking…aroused? He's not entirely sure, but Kurt's cheeks are slightly pink, and his eyes are a bit darker than usual, although it's hard to tell in this light…

"You ready?" Dave asks, holding out his hands, and Kurt nods, taking them firmly and stepping towards him. Dave skates backward, dragging Kurt smoothly forward.

"So didn't you used to play hockey?"

"Yeah. I gave it up though…"

"Why?"

Dave coughs, embarrassed, he's not sure why though, because Kurt will understand. He weaves them around the ice, and Kurt seems completely at ease, and he's not sure if it's because his mind isn't focussed on the skating, or whether he simply trusts Dave that much to not let him fall.

"Changing room. The showers for teams here are completely open. At least at school there were those privacy partitions…"

"Ah. Yeah. Fair enough."

"Mmm. Told the guys that my dad would only let me play one sport though. As an excuse."

"Ah. The old blame-the-parent cover-up…this is kind of nice. Much better than last time…"

"I'm glad. Think you can go to one hand?"

"Um, okay. Sure."

Dave lets go of Kurt's right hand, wanting to keep his stronger arm on Kurt, because just in case he does fall he will be able to catch him, or at least break his fall. He speeds up slightly, but only to a brisk walking pace really, and Kurt just follows. Dave doesn't think he's actually lifted his feet off the ice yet. They do a couple of laps at the slow gentle pace, and Kurt starts to relax again, humming something under his breath, a song Dave recognises but couldn't put a name to.

"So, think you want to actually try skating?" Dave asks, and Kurt grins, head shaking.

"No. I quite like gliding around and you doing all the work…it's quite relaxing. Maybe next time…"

Dave huffs and aims them back to the side gate, arm wrapping around Kurt as he propels them across the ice. He doesn't even get off the ice before Kurt has turned around and is kissing him, teetering on the blades and hands fisted in his jacket. Dave kisses back, because hell, why wouldn't he? Kurt's hands are cool and smooth on his skin, and he really doesn't think that here is the most appropriate place, but at least it's not public. He wants to push Kurt back, but he's fairly certain that would topple him over, so he stands, stationary, as Kurt's hands move under his clothes and then one goes to cup his cock through his jeans.

"Can I get off…the ice? I…Kurt…"

"Oh, right…sorry. Let's go over there and sit…"

Dave follows and Kurt nudges him to sit and then kneels between his legs and  _oh_ , he's grinning up at Dave, looking completely perfect, nose pink and hair slightly dishevelled. He runs a finger down the fly of Dave's jeans, and his cock jumps. Kurt leans forward and breaths through the denim, directly onto his cock, and the warmth seeps into his skin and makes him shiver. He's not hard yet, but it won't be long, he's not jerked off for three days, which might not seem like long, but after four days of sex nearly on tap it's felt like an eternity.

He realises then that it's pretty much exactly this time last week that they'd had sex for the first time, and it's weird, because it feels like so much longer. Kurt's easing his zipper down, slowly and carefully, his face still a bare inch or two from his crotch and that view is one he'll never get sick of. He shuts his eyes so he can focus on the hot breath and cool fingers. Then Kurt is tugging at his jeans and underwear, trying to get more manoeuvring room. Dave obliges by carefully lifting his hips so Kurt can tug his highly inconvenient clothing down slightly. It's not enough, he can't spread his legs and _fuck_ , they haven't even taken their skates off, but Kurt is wrapping fingers around him and he  _doesn't care._

Kurt shuffles slightly, and then his mouth is closing around the head of Dave's cock and  _shit_. Hot wet moist sucking. He has no leverage to thrust, and Kurt's hands are clamped, one around his cock and one on his thigh, strong, holding him in place, the one on his cock tugging in a rhythm matching his mouth and tongue. Time seems to morph into another dimension, no longer existing, because he has no idea how long Kurt's been working on him, but he's hard and aching, and it could be a minute, it could be ten, or it could be an hour.

"Think you can go to no hands?" Kurt asks, breathless, lips swollen and grinning like he's just achieved world peace.

"Oh fuck…shut  _up_  Kurt…god."

Kurt laughs and then he's doing the wonderful thing with his throat and swallowing around him and they've had plenty of practise now but he knows he'll never get bored of this. And he has  _got_  to see if Kurt can teach him. He feels Kurt's fingers dig into his thigh, pushing at denim and he lets go with a grunt, trying to muffle the sound because this place echoes. He moves almost instantly, wanting to return the favour, because he can't let something like that go in good conscience but Kurt's hands are on his thighs, strong and firm and he's shaking his head.

"No, I want you to watch…" Kurt breaths, and he moves slightly, his own pants pulled down and tight across his legs, cock hard and straining upward and _fuck_ , yeah, he wants to watch too. Kurt sits back, arse resting on his skates and Dave has a perfect view of his body, stretched out in front of him, almost fully clothed.

"Talk to me…tell me what you like…" Dave demands, and he's probably going to walk away from this as hard as he was a few minutes ago the way his body is trying to react to the vision in front of him.

"Sometimes…I like it slow. Build the tension and anticipation up. Tease myself. Take myself to the edge and back a couple of times before finally letting myself go…" Kurt says, and his hand is moving slowly on his cock in a steady pace, thumb smearing over the top occasionally to spread the pre-come, and Dave is watching everything. The way Kurt's hips are bucking gently, how his hair has fallen across his eyes, the tongue as it slips out to wet his lips, how his eyes are on Dave and watching his reactions. Everything.

"Sometimes I like it fast. Rough. Hard and urgent. If I'm at home I'll get out a toy and use it, fuck myself with it…"

"Oh god…" Dave mutters, although he's not sure he's said it aloud, because it garners no reaction from Kurt, whose hand is now a blur, and Dave's thinking of him lying in a bed fucking himself with a dildo and he's got jerking-off material for  _months_.

"Fuck…and sometimes…I don't know…what I want…I'll start one way and…end up…changing halfway through. Nice slow fucks…that end up hard…and fast."

"Fuck…" Dave mumbles.

Kurt comes then with a surprised gasp and a cut-off shout and he looks  _stunning_. Dave leans down, ignoring the fact that Kurt's hand and jacket and pants are now covered in come and kisses him, hands clasped on either side of his face, urging him up and forward so Dave can run his tongue along his teeth, stroke his tongue, grip his hair in his hands, and just  _be_.

* * *

His dad had been asleep when Dave had dropped him home last night, which meant he's had a reprieve from the questions. He fully inspects an interrogation this morning though, so he goes downstairs cautiously. His dad is waiting, coffee cup in hand, eyes shrewd, and Kurt recognises the ' _I love you but don't you dare bullshit me_ ' look his father has perfected over the years.

"So, my memory isn't what it used to be, but…Dave Karofsky. Isn't he the boy who used to bully you in school? The reason you transferred?"

"Operative words there being  _used to_ ," Kurt replies, leaning against the wall, because he doesn't know where this is going to go and he might need the physical support. "I was bullied by a lot of people back then."

His dad looks tragically unhappy and Kurt bites his lip. He knows it tears his dad up knowing he couldn't do anything to prevent it happening in the first place, and Kurt feels bad for reminding him.

"So, he's gay then?"

"Uh, yeah," Kurt replies, and only because it's his dad does he hold back the eye roll and snarky comment.

"Huh. Okay, well, he seems to have grown up. That little kiss you gave him last night… that the same type of kiss you give Mercedes or…something more?"

He flushes bright red then, because he'd forgotten about that innocent little kiss in the wake of everything else that had happened last night, and remembering  _that_  doesn't help the heat in his face, and he'll never be comfortable having this type of conversation with his dad. Ever.

"It's more. He's…more."

"Mmm. Well, I trust that you know what you're doing." Kurt feels like laughing, because he has no  _idea_  what he's doing, or what he's going to do, but everyone around him seems to think he has all the answers. "Just…mind yourself. That boy might be carrying around quite a bit of guilt about what he did to you back then…Be careful he doesn't overcompensate in your relationship. "

"I…what? Have you been talking to Carol? Anyway, he wouldn't. Well, I don't think so. I hope he's not. I mean… we've talked, and he apologised years ago, and…it's not something we talk about. Or need to talk about. It's in the past."

"Good. I'm glad, you know yourselves best. How did you meet up with him again anyway? He in LA?"

"Uh, no. He's in Chicago. He's Mike's best friend actually," Kurt states, and he knows his dad had met Mike yesterday.

"Huh. Small world. What does he do now?"

"He's a cop," Kurt replies, and this is going far better than he'd ever imagined. Then again, his dad has always seemed to know what's best for him.

"That's good. I…good," his dad says, nodding his head firmly and Kurt smiles hesitantly, not sure if this topic is now concluded.

Carol walks in, phone pressed against her ear and she smiles widely at both of them before giving his dad a quick kiss and Kurt a hug. She's listening to someone, and Kurt's pretty sure it's Finn.

"No Finn, it's just a Thanksgiving tradition. You'll live without the extra candy you know," Carol says. Kurt bites back a laugh and exchanges an amused glance with his dad, because some things never change.

* * *

Christmas day is worse than he suspected. Or maybe better. He's not sure. They've ended up back at his dad's place with most of the food and most of the people they started out with less than an hour ago. So those are both positives in his book at least.

They'd arrived at Pat's and Dave had ignored the suspicious glare from his dad's first wife, and his parents had been polite, despite Suzanne barely acknowledging their arrival. Then they'd gone to all sit at the table and the drama had started. Dave is still surprised they lasted that long. He'd pulled out Kate's chair, something he knew from experience  _not_  to do for Santana, and he'd noted Suzanne's eyes on him still. When Suzanne had said ' _I knew you'd find the right girl eventually',_ Santana had simply clasped Kate's hand in hers and then given her a kiss that as far as Dave figured, was far too passionate for a dinner table.

Suzanne's wide eyes, flared nostrils and ' _I can't believe my grandchildren are being exposed to this un-naturalness. It's just wrong. Pat, you are doing your children a disservice.'_  Well, Santana in full bitch mode is something beautiful to behold, and it had been amusing to watch his dad's reaction as well. Before he could say anything Santana had stood, informed Suzanne there was nothing wrong with either herself, Dave or Kate (at which point Zach had piped up with an ' _Or me!'_ ), saying that they were respectable, contributing members of society, and had stood there, hands on hips and Dave knows if he were straight he'd probably have been turned on.

And then been completely turned off when Suzanne had started screaming. She'd been barely comprehendible, but the gist had been that they were all going to hell, and how dare a deviant like Santana talk to her like that, and Sara had decided to proudly declare that she was apparently a lesbian, making Suzanne purple with rage (a fact Dave doesn't believe for a second considering the boyfriend he'd had to hear all about at Thanksgiving). Pat had tried calming her mother down, which had proved completely fruitless, and now Steve is driving the old battle-axe back to Cincinnati. Poor man.

As they were leaving his dad had wrapped an arm around him and given him a squeeze, a mumbled ' _I'm proud of you'_  under his breath, and then done the same to Santana. Dave had smiled and given his dad a brief hug back, not used to the open demonstration. Santana had looked like she was going to cry, but had quickly gotten over it. Sara and Zach are still exclaiming over how cool it all was. Best Christmas ever apparently, and Sara's taken to calling her evil-grandma, and he's tried to discourage her, but he's pretty sure telling her off while trying not to smile hasn't exactly driven the message home.

They've eaten and cleared up and now lounging around. Zach and Sara are busy talking, and he's half-listening, because he's pretty sure they're trying to either include him, or impress him. Either or. He jumps when he feels his phone vibrate. It's Mike.  _'She said yes'_. Dave rolls his eyes, because he's not sure what universe Mike has been living in, but Dave never had any doubt. And judging from Kurt's response, he never had any either.

* * *

Casual drinks at Cookies on Boxing Day have turned into an impromptu engagement party. Although Dave has promised them a real one back in Chicago. Kurt's listened with half an ear, feeling a bit left out as the three of them had made plans, Santana chipping in occasionally despite her best attempts to appear completely uninterested. Like New York it's become a bit of a mini reunion, Azimio Adams has turned up and been politeness itself, even apologising to not only him, but pretty much everyone there.

Kurt's not drinking. He has a flight tomorrow at six in the morning, and Dave is dropping him off, and Kurt's noticed he switched to water after his first beer almost two hours ago. He's bored, the music isn't any good and everyone's talking about their New Year's plans. Kurt's planning to be in LA. Except he doesn't want to be in LA, he wants to be in Chicago, attending Mercedes' engagement party, which  _Dave_  is organising.

He knows he's being petty, but  _he_  wants to throw a party. Or at least be there. He stops then, and considers it, because there's nothing stopping him going to Chicago for a few nights. He did it last week, and back in August as well. He knows he can get some work done remotely, definitely not all, but there's very little happening at the moment, studios shut down for the holidays, reduced hours if they are filming due to the lack of daylight…yeah. He can totally swing this.

"Hey, can you look after these? Just going to the bathroom…" Dave says, and he passes Kurt his phone and wallet before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before leaving the table. Noah's eyebrows have shot up, and Azimio is looking at Kurt, then after Dave, and then back at him again as if he's just put some puzzle together.

Kurt ignores them all, instead deciding to flick through Dave's phone, figuring the contacts list at least will be something he won't feel wrong for looking at. He's a bit curious to see whether Dave's snapped any photos of him, but refrains from looking. When he flicks to the contacts he frowns…instead of proper names there are… other names. A drain, Banana, Batman, BatshitCrazy, Big D, CapitalT, CapnCrunch, CaptainA, KeKe, Mercy, Princess, Potter, Rockhopper, Satan, Scary mom, Shrinker, Spiderman, Superman, Tank, Zebra. Interspersed in the odd names are normal ones: mom, dad, Jen and Pat, but the majority are definitely odd. And his name isn't there, so he's got…a code name? He's really curious now, and it's almost like a game. He has no idea which one belongs to him, so he starts a process of elimination. Some are obvious, Mercy is clearly Mercedes, Satan is Santana but the others have him stumped.

He likes this about Dave though. He's so open and honest and upfront with nearly everything, but there are small things he has, which are layered with meaning for him, which he guards carefully, and it's those layers Kurt is looking forward to peeling back and getting to know better.

TBC...


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Debraelq for answering my questions. I sometimes have a lot of them. 
> 
> WARNINGS AT THE END – scroll down if you need to read them first. Nothing too scary, I promise.

**JANUARY 2026 – part one**

Dave holds his head in his hands and stares at the wood grain on his dining room table, hoping the drugs kick in soon. He's hung-over. Probably the worst he's been since college, and he only has himself to blame. That, and his apparent willingness to go along with Harry's ridiculous drinking suggestions. Vodka mixed with sparkling black currant wine.  _Really_? If he looks up he knows he's going to see the carnage of the previous night littered around his apartment and he can't bring himself to care, because he feels sick, and stupid, and Kurt is asleep in his bed and he can't do a damn thing about it because every movement takes all his conscious thought. Any thoughts left over he uses to focus on not throwing up. And he needs the pills to stay in his stomach so they can fucking well start  _working_.

A cool hand rests on the back of his neck and he groans, because he's pitiful, and what's even more cruel, is that Kurt is seeing him like this, at his worst, and he really should have thought about that last night when he'd accepted his first drink from Harry.

"I have to admit I am amused…" Kurt murmurs, and Dave knows he's probably whispering, but his voice still sounds loud and echo-y in his head.

He lets Kurt coax him up out of his chair and carefully steer him back to bed. Kurt tucks him in, cold cloth over his eyes, a whispered ' _there's a bucket just down beside you'_  and the curtains are closed, lights turned off, door closed and he's ensconced in warm dark silence.

* * *

Kurt isn't afraid of hard physical work. And seeing as he can't exactly go outside for a run, and there isn't a treadmill laying around in Dave's apartment, he throws himself into cleaning. He doesn't know what to do with all the empty bottles, so he places them on a part of the kitchen bench, out of the way. He starts the first load of dishes through the dishwasher, hand washing the more delicate glasses. He collects up pieces of discarded food and throws it away. Wipes down multiple sticky surfaces and opens up a window very briefly to air the lounge of the stale smell of alcohol and too-many bodies. He scrubs at the tiles in the bathroom, and the kitchen floor. He'd hoover, except he's pretty sure that sound might just kill Dave right now.

When he's finally finished he's hot and feeling decidedly sticky, but the apartment resembles an apartment again. He opens the door to Dave's bedroom, the door making a shushing sound as it slides against the carpet and he draws his phone from his pocket so he doesn't need to turn on a light. He can hear the quiet rhythmic breathing of Dave asleep, and for a brief moment he's tempted to simply crawl into bed with him. Instead he quietly gathers us his toiletries, a change of clothes and heads to the bathroom, leaving Dave to recover.

After his shower he goes into the lounge, nestling into the cushions, wrapping a blanket around him, and pulls his pad of paper from his laptop bag. He's made a list, trying to recall the list of contacts in Dave's phone while on the plane back to LA. It's turned into a bit of an obsession, and he's even talked to Finn about the difference between DC comics and Marvel comics, because while he'd very much like to think Dave's assigned him a superhero nickname he's pretty sure those are probably either workmates or football teammates.

Finn had mentioned something about a justice league, and he suspects that maybe the DC heroes are workmates, while the Marvel heroes are teammates. It's just a theory, but last night had been incredibly helpful. He'd probably met every single person Dave and Mike know in Chicago, and he'd paid extra close attention to their names and how Dave had first greeted them. It's exactly why he has no hangover. Every time he could, he'd slipped away to the bedroom and scribbled names down and how Dave greeted them. Of course, this had backfired a couple of times, with more people arriving while he's trying to figure this out…He lets out a small sigh, because he could just ring Dave's phone and see what comes up, but that would feel like cheating.

Kate is Princess. Which he figures must be a parallel between her being English and having the same name as the current Queen over there. He's pretty sure Harry is Potter, A drain is Adrian and Big D is Mike. These are the ones he's fairly confident are right, other than Mercy and Satan. Tom could be Tank, but it would be a guess. Christine is probably Scary mom. He has no idea what Dave calls Karen, and there are still so many options. He's noticed that some of the nicknames Dave uses, and others he doesn't, although he's not discerned a pattern yet. And sometimes Dave only uses the name when he firsts greets the person, and then he uses their proper name.

Using his notes he manages to work out another ten names, but still not his own. Screw it. He's out of patience. He pulls his phone out and flicks to Dave's name, and the picture of him lying almost naked comes up on the screen and Kurt bites his lip, mouth suddenly dry. He's not quite sure how Dave would react if he saw that. Sure he's got a photo of himself in almost the exact same position, but it's on a wall in his apartment, and no doubt taken with his knowledge and permission.

He puts it in the too-hard basket for now and rings Dave's phone, quickly hanging up before the call can go through, or before the chime can sound on Dave's phone. A picture comes up, but Kurt remembers Dave taking it. He's wearing one of Dave's shirts, hair sticking up all over the place, crease lines from the pillow on his face and he looks  _terrible._  Underneath the picture is the name Rock Hopper.

"Rock hopper?" Kurt mumbles, confused.

The only thing he can think of is a grasshopper, and he just doesn't get it. He's an  _insect_? He'd rather be BatshitCrazy, at least he knows what that means. He pulls out his laptop, bringing it out of standby and he flicks into a search engine and types in  _rock hopper_. He waits for the results to load and flicks to the images. It's a penguin. A fucking penguin. It's still confusing though, and he's fighting his urge to go and shake Dave awake and ask him what the hell it means. Because he wants to know, but knowing now or waiting until Dave wakes up and is less likely to throw up on him are on par with each other. He lets out an annoyed huff of breath and puts both phones on the coffee table, closing his laptop and chews on his lip.

* * *

His mouth feels furry and when he breathes he's pretty sure it could melt metal. He moves slowly, still not feeling great, but definitely better than this morning. Which was five hours ago. The room is still dark, but it's stuffy and uncomfortably warm, but he's not willing to try risking opening the curtains just yet. He goes into his en suite, brushing his teeth his top priority. And then probably brushing them again, because there feels like there is fuzz on fuzz in there.

The air in the hall feels refreshingly cool as he pads toward the lounge. He stands in the shadow of the doorway for a few moments and watches. Kurt's curled up, reading one of his books, although he has no idea which one. He's covered himself with the blanket from the back of the sofa, and as Dave starts paying attention to something other than Kurt he realises the lounge has been cleaned and tidied, and  _shit_ , if didn't feel bad enough already.

"You didn't have to clean up…I would have gotten to it."  _Eventually._

"Don't worry about it, I just counted it as my workout for the day. How are you feeling?"

"Better…" he replies, squinting as he moves into the bright light of the lounge to sit beside Kurt.

"Good. Um. Have you been talking to Blaine?"

"What? No. Why would I want to talk to him?"

"Huh. Good point. Okay…then can you explain this to me?"

Dave takes the piece of paper being thrusted at him. It looks like it's been screwed up and smoothed out a couple of times, and as he studies it he realises it's his contact list from his phone, beside which Kurt has listed a good number of his friends and tried to match them up.

"That's kind of stalker-like, going through my phone…" Dave comments, and he really doesn't care, but Kurt is looking at him as if he's found something Dave should be ashamed of. "What? What's there to explain?"

"A penguin?"

"What? What's wrong with penguins?" Dave replies, and he's not a hundred percent and really can't deal with whatever problem Kurt has with penguins. "Look, I can change it if you like. I mean…if it bothers you that much…"

"No. No. I'm being stupid and overreacting. It's fine. Really. But a penguin?  _Really_?"

"Uh…okay. You know I don't think of you as a penguin right? I mean…" he pauses, because Kurt is watching him intently, like this is actually a serious fucking matter. He leans over and takes his hand, tugging him awkwardly into his arms, half-sprawled in his lap.

"When I go to phone you I don't think of a fucking penguin okay? I think of how your hair looked that morning, little tufts sticking out like feathers, because we'd been too busy having fantastic sex to care what we looked like. I think of your sexy sleepy smile when you wake up with a hard on, and the way you look wearing nothing but my shirt. You look  _good_  like that. Fuck you look good," Dave reiterates, and he means every word, but he keeps quiet about the fact that, for him, the name also indicates the moment he realised that he was in love with Kurt.

"Oh," Kurt says, releasing a long soft breath, and he's looking a bit bashful, eyes on his hands. Dave shuffles slightly to make himself more comfortable and Kurt lies down, placing his head in his lap. Dave runs his fingers through Kurt's hair, soft and trailing and Kurt makes a little sound of contentment.

"Tell me about the others?"

"The names?"

Kurt nods and Dave shrugs, because it makes no difference to him, his friends have been giving him shit about his weird-arse phone list for years. He keeps his parents and sisters as normal, if only because emergency service personnel would look for something normal like that. He's also got ' _Emergency contacts'_  programmed into his phone, but they've never had to be used before. He starts at the top of the list.

* * *

Dave's reasoning has left him dizzy. He can't look at him right now, a bit scared of what he might see. He's pretty sure Dave loves him, and that possibility is a bit too much right now, when he's only just come to realise and accept his own emotions. Although he feels the truth of what Mercedes had said to him last week, Dave will wait until he's ready, which just reinforces his gut feeling that Dave loves him. For a brief second he feels like laughing hysterically, because it is crazy, but it's not going to change anything.

He lets Dave's voice wash over him, because he really does want to hear about the reasons behind the other names. He's heard about word-association, and if that's the association Dave has with that word, then…he can live with that. He's glad he didn't change it to something else, or shake him awake, or do anything overly dramatic. He'll have to remember that. Just to ask. Calmly. Dave will tell him. If he has a problem with telling, then he'll say so. He thinks of the tattoo, and knows he could ask about that again, and probably get an answer, but right now…

He learns a lot of completely useless information, some of it more interesting than others. That Santana is Satan only because when he kept on calling her Angel she threatened to skewer his balls. Mercy, because that's always how Mike refers to Mercedes. Hulk is apparently an Irish guy called Iain who Dave met on St Patrick's day and was painted completely green. Keke is Keegan, because he used to dress as a drag queen to earn money when he was a student. Scary Mom is Christine, because she scares him more than his actual mom does. Karen is CapitalT, and the T is for trouble, because that's what she is, although he can tell Dave is grinning when he says that.

He's got some names right, and his theory proves correct, and Dave mumbles about him not thinking that Kurt would know the difference between DC and Marvel comics. When he admits he phoned Finn for help Dave's body shakes as he laughs, and he relates Az's story about finding AJ and his boyfriend Jason reading comics and Dave saying that they'd be getting different things out of them. It's Kurt's turn to laugh, and he wonders if he should point that out to Finn, who still buys the odd comic book, sneaking it into the house like it's a porn magazine.

It's warm and comfortable and  _right._  And he has another ten whole days of this before he has to go back to LA, assuming there isn't a costume-related emergency between now and then. He has work that needs doing of course, he can't leave it to backlog, otherwise he'll end up with a weeks of work to do and no time to catch-up. But Dave has to work as well, and he's pretty sure he has bought everything he needs with him ensure a productive work week.

Dave's fingers are effectively massaging his head, and he's finding it incredibly relaxing, he could go to sleep like this, and he wonders if Dave would like to join him back in bed. He's just realised how tired he's feeling, a heavy weight suddenly flowing through his body. Dave has been quiet for a few minutes, and Kurt's pretty sure the reason behind the Zebra nickname will likely always remain a mystery to him. He chances a look and sure enough, Dave's eyes are closed, but his fingers are still moving, but they're lighter and softer.

"Come on…let's go to bed…" Kurt says, and he moves slowly, wanting to preserve the sleepy lassitude.

"Hmm? I was just resting my eyes…"

"That's good, come rest them in bed while I sleep," Kurt mumbles, and he tugs at Dave's hand and he stands, blinking blearily, and Kurt can't resist angling in for a kiss. There's nothing rushed or urgent, and Kurt wraps arms around his waist, and it feels good.

* * *

Dave feels odd leaving for work. Kurt has set himself up at the dining room table, pulling out a laptop, a tablet, and what looked like a bunch of small pieces of fabric from a small bag. The last four days have been a type of vacation at home. They've had sex, lain together in bed reading, watched a couple of movies and talked about pretty much everything except where their relationship is at. And Kurt can deny it all he wants, but it's a relationship, and has been for him since October.

He thinks Kurt has realised it as well, he's caught Kurt looking at him a couple of times, and it's become this  _thing_ between them, to not mention it. At least not for now, because they  _will_  talk about it. He knows they will, but for now they both just seem to be enjoying each other and the way that they've just seemed to slot into place, altering their daily routines to either fit in or complement one another.

They've gone running together on the treadmills in the buildings gym, and while Kurt has done a series of stretching exercises he's worked through kata sequences. They've showered together, gone out to dinner with Mike and Mercedes, and he wants this to be his life. But as every day ticks by he knows it's one day closer to Kurt going back to LA. At least this time when he says goodbye Dave knows when he'll next see him. Unlike this little impromptu visit that Kurt kind of surprised him with, by turning up on New Year's Eve with a suitcase asking if he could stay. As if he'd ever say no. Kurt hasn't given him any indication that he forward plans them meeting up, it's all been spontaneous visits, but Dave has a trip to LA next month, for a conference for work.

He's already organised to extend the three-day conference visit by two days before, and four days after, giving him little more than a week in Kurt's life. He's filled with mild apprehension at the idea; because his life sounds hectic and filled with people Dave has never met and an ex-boyfriend that Kurt doesn't like but still moves in the fringes of his social circle. He's looking forward to it though, getting to see where Kurt lives and sleeps, learning what he does on a day-to-day basis.

He walks into the precinct and greets people as he walks past, and he's not sure if he's imagining it, but people are grinning at him more than normal. He starts getting suspicious when the fifth person raises their coffee cup in a silent toast to him.  _What the hell?_  He pushes the door to his office open and looks above the door, expecting a bucket full of paint or confetti or something equally annoying. Nothing. Karen is sitting at her desk, looking far too busy for eight-thirty in the morning on a Monday after a week's break. Although, maybe that isn't so suspicious. He expects this week to be a bit of a catch-up week. He checks his chair and desk for any possible practical jokes and sits down. He's known for his good sense of humour and easy going nature, so always seems to be the first person people try out a new practical joke on, because he'll laugh at himself. The whole atmosphere since he's arrived tells him something is up, but there's nothing. Yet.

It's not until he goes for a coffee at eleven that the piece of paper in the break room catches his eye. Karaoke Night. Every fucking year. He goes closer and sure enough, he's apparently signed up…he counts…eight times. Eight. And not a single time does the handwriting come close to his own. In fact, he's pretty sure that at least three of them are Karen.

"Not  _again,_ " he mutters, it's been the same the last three years; he gets signed up to sing karaoke. He can't sing, which is why he never signs himself up, but every single fucking year he gives in and agrees to go along. Apparently listening to him butcher a song makes everyone feel better about their own musical talents. Or lack thereof. Whatever team he's been in has always come last, his score dragging them down, although whatever team he's in has also always won the 'good sport' award.

When he re-enters his office his eyes slide to Karen, who is trying (and failing) to look innocent.

"People could just ask me…"

"Well, I think they assume you'll say no."

"Right. Well, I'm giving in to peer pressure…" Dave sighs, and he doesn't really mind, but it means this Friday night he's not going out to dinner with Kurt, but going to a Karaoke bar with fifty or so of his workmates. And if Kurt decides to come along, well…

"People not in the precinct can join in right?"

"Yeah, why? You going to get Kurt to come watch your humiliation?"

"Kurt's seen me do a lot worse things than sing badly, and I'm thinking of putting his name to participate…"

Though Karen's hit on one of the few things that's he's actually insecure about regarding Kurt. He's only ever seen Kurt with Blaine, and he knows Blaine could sing just as well as Kurt, and the guys since Blaine, well, he has no idea, but he imagines that they've all been somewhat musically inclined. He knows logically that it doesn't matter, but he can't stop the irrational fear, even though he knows outwardly he won't show he cares.

"Really? Can he sing?"

"I…yeah. Yeah he can sing."

"Well enough to counteract you?"

"Fuck off," Dave mutters, but he nods, because while he hasn't heard Kurt sing properly since school, he  _has_  heard him sing under his breath, and he's always humming, and Dave's pretty sure music is in his blood. "He could have made it his living, if that's what he'd wanted."

"Really? And he's with you?"

"Fuck off," Dave repeats, and he's a bit pissed now, because he's not  _that_  uncouth. He knows music. He can play a musical instrument. He just can't sing. He can't be fucking good at everything. Kurt's not with him because he can sing, or can't sing or…he takes a deep calming breath, glares at Karen who is watching him with slightly raised eyebrows, and goes back to work.

Dave gets the first text message at around four in the afternoon, and it's fairly innocuous.  _'I'm thinking of you'._  He's not quite sure how to respond, so he doesn't, he can always say he was too busy. Thirty minutes later he gets another text.  _'I found your toy draw'_. He lets out a short huff and swallows, because individually the words mean very little. Strung together like that and his imagination is kicking into gear, and he's split between thinking Kurt's a nosey little bastard, and wondering what the hell Kurt's going to do now…and fuck it, he needs to know.

' _Find anything you like?'_  Dave texts back, and he starts tapping out a familiar rhythm with his fingers.  _'Maybe. I've always been partial to sparkly things.'_ Dave's heart and cock both jump, because there's only one sparkly thing that he owns, and it's clear silicon dildo, with glitter and holographic reflective dust-like-stuff all the way through. It's secretly one of Dave's favourites, and probably likely to jump to the top of the list.

He's not sure whether to text back, or call him or… Karen's in the room, and she's staring at him and Dave realises he's been tapping his fingers. He snaps his hand together guiltily and avoids her gaze, because he has a fucking  _tell_ , and she's been his partner too long to not be able to recognise it and know what it means. She's snorting in amusement now, and Dave's pretty sure he's blushing. Without looking at her, sitting on his right hand and using his left to type he sends back ' _Don't tell me you're using it. You'll kill me.'_

The reply comes not even thirty seconds later.  _'Okay. I won't. I quite like you alive.'_

" _Fuck_." He doesn't realise he's said it aloud, and he glances up to find Karen looking far too amused and waving a hand towards the door.

"Go on…go home and fuck your boyfriend already…"

"I…" he really has nothing to say to that, because that's exactly what he plans to do. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Kurt's sex drive is ramped all the way up. He's finding the more sex he has with Dave, the more he wants. Which had led him to hunt out Dave's toys. He'd mentioned them, and Kurt had known they were in the bedroom, so he'd gone looking. Dave  _had_  said to make himself at home…He'd gone through them all, curious, because Dave has quite an extensive collection, which for some reason he finds surprising. And arousing. The idea of someone using these on Dave, or Dave using them on  _him_ … and then he'd sent the first text.

He'd then sorted through the dildos, vibrators and plugs, the paddles, the feathers, nipple clamps, cocks rings, ties, handcuffs, a couple of blindfolds and some things which he's not actually sure of, but could hazard a pretty good guess. There's nothing that causes him any alarm, but it has caused his pulse to increase ever so slightly and that's when he sends the second text. If he's going to be uncomfortably turned on then Dave can know about it.

He gets a response this time, and he realises that it's probably inappropriate to be texting while Dave is at work, but…nothing he's said has been exactly _explicit_. He studies the items spread out in front of him, and his fingers run over a clear glittery dildo, nine inches long with five inch girth.  _Pretty_. He bites his thumb, and then sends his third text. He knows what he's going to do now, and he's not going to  _tell_  Dave exactly, but he hopes it will definitely give him some incentive to come straight home.

He puts a cock ring and the dildo to one side, along with an unopened tube of lube, and then places everything back in the draw. He strips quickly but then goes to Dave's drawers again, pulling on a t-shirt that he knows Dave likes on him. His phone chimes beside him, but he ignores it until he's up on the bed, pulling the sheets back and making himself comfortable. He checks the time and then Dave's message.

' _Don't tell me you're using it. You'll kill me.'_

Well, he's not using it  _yet_ , but he's fairly certain that's semantics. He sends back his reply and then tosses his phone over the side of the bed. He's going to be too busy to send any more messages, and he think he's made it pretty fucking clear to Dave what he's about to do. It's ten-to-five, so he figures Dave should be home in twenty-five to forty minutes.

He's chosen an adjustable ring, because he's not used one in a while, and he tightens it carefully, just the fact that he's doing this, with the intent that Dave come home and find him waiting and ready, is sending blood to fill his cock. He strokes down his chest to his cock softly, not wanting to start the party too early, but definitely wanting to be hard, leaking and desperate by the time Dave gets home. He pumps his cock until he's semi-erect, knowing it's only going to get fuller and harder as he progresses.

He spreads the lube on his fingers, not wasting time or trying to look sexy while doing it. This is all means to an end right now, and all he has to do is imagine that it's Dave doing this, or even just Dave watching. He slips one finger inside, working himself open and groans slightly. There's a faint ache still present from last time, nothing that won't fade away very shortly though. He takes his time, waiting until the ache has receded completely before inserting a second finger. The stinging returns briefly, and he forces himself to relax, scissoring his fingers and starting to pump them in and out.

He draws them out completely, adds more lube and then slides three back in. It's more difficult and the angle is awkward, and he feels insanely glad that Dave isn't actually here watching because he feels all tangled and twisted and while he's becoming more turned on, he can't say he feels particularly sexy right now. Funny? Definitely. Aroused? Of course… Sexy? Not so much… He hears his phone chime and gasps out a choked laugh, because there is no way he's stopping to go and check it.

He twists his fingers, trying to reach in as far as possible, stretching and turning, his arm muscles start to twinge and he's feeling warm all over. Prickly tight. He reaches out for the dildo, fingers curling around the silicon and he pulls out his fingers, wiping them on the sheet before reaching for the lube and coating it liberally. He wants Dave to be able to just sink right in, and fuck he hopes he's hard when he gets home, because he'll explode if he has to wait too long.

He draws his legs up a bit further, shoving a pillow one-handed under his hips to help. He has no idea how long he's going to be drawing this out for. He wiggles, making himself comfortable, and then positions the dildo at his hole, breathes out, pushes down with his body and up with his hand and tells himself to  _relax_.

"Oh fuck…" he says, voice unnaturally loud in the empty room.

He pushes it in slowly, drawing it back out before pushing in a bit further. His other hand is on his cock, trying to match the pace, short light strokes alternated with longer harder ones. He works his own body until it's all the way in, and he can feel sweat starting to bead at his temples and he bites his lip as he cants his body upward. He moves the dildo, angling downward and across…and  _oh fuck_. He repeats the motion again. And again. Again. Until his cock is hard and leaking in his other hand, and he uses the pre-come to ease some of the friction.

"Jesus  _fucking_ Christ…"

"Fuck… _Dave_. I didn't hear the door…"

"No wonder…god you look fantastic. Don't stop."

Kurt doesn't, the fact that Dave is now here, is undressing frantically while his eyes travel up and down Kurt's body, is making him even harder, and it's _almost_  painful. Then Dave is kneeling on the bed, hands running up under the shirt, down his chest and sides, gripping his thighs and pushing his legs back.

"Gorgeous. Just…gorgeous, " Dave breaths, and he places his hand over Kurt's on the dildo, and Kurt lets his hand drop away. Dave sets up a different pace, moving it faster inward, before dragging it out slowly, deliberately and Kurt can feel Dave's cock pleasingly hot and firm against the back of his thigh.

"So much better than my imagination…" Dave says, and Kurt can't help the little moan that escapes, thinking that Dave has imagined him like this. "You in my shirt…almost better than you naked."

"I can take it off…"

"No. This is perfect…you're perfect. Fuck Kurt…you have no idea…"

Kurt's pretty sure he  _does_  have an idea, the way Dave is watching the dildo slide in and out of him, and he shudders, wanting and nearing release as Dave strokes across his prostate. He's stopped working on his cock. He wants Dave inside him.

"Okay…just let me…"

Kurt realises he's spoken aloud and  _good_. Because he couldn't have waited much longer. Dave is reaching, tearing and sliding a condom down his cock in one practised movement. He flexes the muscles in his legs and Dave must notice, because a quick kiss is pressed to his ankle, then his knee… The dildo is being slid out, and he inhales at the sensation, but then Dave is pressing in, hands guiding Kurt's legs around him, fingers at his hips, pulling Kurt forwards as he moves to meet him.

"So good…" Dave hisses, and Kurt has to agree, because they've gotten better, although he's not quite sure how that's possible.

They're more sure of each other's bodies though, learnt things,  _lots of things_ , in the last two weeks, about how they each respond in bed. He's learnt that Dave very rarely, if ever, leaks pre-come, and that sometimes he remains hard for a while after he comes. How he truly has ticklish nipples, but licking them when he's close to orgasm make him cry out in pleasure. How Dave likes a bit of pain, although doesn't seem to want to inflict it. There's probably dozens of things he now knows but hasn't realised he knows. Dave moves and his body is taut with tension, and Kurt can tell that he's holding back, which isn't want he wants, it's not why he has spent almost half-an-hour stretching himself for.

"Dave…fuck… _harder_ …"

"I…"

" _Harder._ "

Dave seems to pause, and then his hips snap forward and Kurt lets out a startled gasp and groans ' _yes'_. That seems to give Dave all the encouragement he needs, because his hands become firmer, spreading him wider so he can get in even deeper when he thrusts forward. Kurt is pushing back against the headboard with one hand, one leg wrapped around Dave as high as he can hold it and holding the other against his chest, because he wants hard and deep,  _needs it_. His cock is now painfully hard and flushed darker than normal, and he wants Dave to somehow grow a third hand so he can jerk him off because  _he's so fucking close._  Dave then pulls out and Kurt feels indignant for all of a second before the look in Dave's eyes stop him.

"Ride me…" Dave orders and Kurt scrambles to obey, because fuck, this solves fucking  _everything._

They're disconnected for all of ten seconds, fifteen tops, Dave's hand on his cock, holding it upright as he lies back, resting on the pillows so he can watch Kurt position himself and he lets gravity assist as he sinks down; his legs are burning, but it pales compared to the burning ache in his groin. He rises, and as he lowers himself again Dave thrusts up, and  _fucking hell_ it's perfect. He speeds up, and Dave matches him thrust for thrust. He cries out when he feels a strong hand wrap around his cock, and it's moving furiously, another hand on his hip, fingers bruising hard, halting his upward momentum.

Kurt starts swearing, words blurring together as he mutters, all his tension spiralling to one pinpoint and then Dave's body is moving beneath him, hips making sharp upward thrusts, both hands now on Kurt's arse, spreading his cheeks wider and bringing him down to meet each thrust up. Kurt puts a hand on his cock, moving it rapidly as he watches Dave's face, and he can tell he's close, but he can't bend down and lick anything from this position. Instead, he reaches up with his spare hand and rakes his nails over a nipple, deliberately rough, and Dave spasms beneath him, eyes going wide.

"Oh  _fuck…_ "

Hearing that, recognising it for what it is, Kurt groans, and his orgasm hits him, strong, powerful, rushing through him until his entire body feels like it is tingling its release, and he sags, exhausted, hands resting on Dave's chest, shaky and he barely notices the streaks of come decorating the chest hair. His whole body is still trembling when Dave tilts them to the side a few moments later, slipping out and then stretching Kurt's legs, which is good, because he can't move them right now. Dave undoes the cock ring, slipping it loose and placing a gentle kiss to the head of his cock, making him smile.

"How I'm meant to go out in an hour and teach karate I have no fucking idea. I don't think I can stand right now…" Dave mutters, and Kurt grins, because if that's the case, then he considers it a job well done.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Use of sex 'toys' (or essentials, depending on your point-of-view). (They weren't even meant to have sex this chapter. LOL.)  
> Dave and Kurt cyber-cookies if you can figure out what Dave's tell is. ;) (I think it's pretty freaking obvious.)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to Debraelq for being my beta. I managed to get this to her on four days before my usual posting deadline, so enough time to actually have a chapter fully beta-d!

 

**JANUARY 2026 – part two**

On Tuesday morning Kurt hits a massive pothole regarding his work. He looks at the tiny scraps of fabric, one of the few things he needs tangible evidence of to do his job and starts swearing. He'd  _thought_  his bag had been a tad too light when he'd packed it up at work. And he's left one of the books behind. He's a tactile person, he finds he can't design a costume without knowing the feel of the fabric. He has his notes, knows what percentage each of the fabrics is made up of. Whether it's silk or cotton or (shudder) lycra. He knows how each of these fabrics falls and drapes, which is difficult to sew, which melts when the iron is set too hot. What fabrics are too reflective to use under stage lights. What is too scratchy and will need lining, because otherwise the actors will bitch at him. He can't go another five days without it. One maybe. Not five.

He triple checks all his bags, making sure he definitely hasn't put it down somewhere in Dave's apartment. He knows he hasn't, but he checks anyway. He then rings Vicky.

"Have you seen the third sample book? The one for the Claudestaff film?"

"Yep. I can see it right now. It's on your desk."

Kurt frowns, because if it's on his desk at the studio, then he would have fucking well packed it.

"How long has it been on my desk?"

"Oh, since yesterday. I put it there."

Kurt closes his eyes in frustration. She's a  _good_  intern, smart, knows her stuff, has an amazing eye for detail, but has these moments of utter stupidity which he's sure are solely to drive him insane. He lets out a long sigh, because he knows she's not doing it on purpose, and she reminds him of Finn sometimes. A younger female Finn.

"Great. I haven't lost it. I kind of need it to finish off the first draft sketches."

"But you're in Chicago…"

He swears quietly under his breath, because if she wasn't so switched on when it actually came to her job he'd have gotten rid of her on day two.

"I am aware of that fact Vicky. You'll probably be seeing me tomorrow."

He hangs up before she can ask why, and rubs the screen of the phone against his forehead. He doesn't want to go back to LA. He's smack-bang in the middle of ten days away, and he  _could_ fly there and back in one day…but it's not his idea of a fun time, and to fly there, and back, to only have to fly back again on Sunday…and now he has to ring Dave and tell him. What exactly, he's not sure, because he hasn't exactly made up his mind. Screw it, maybe the answer will come to him while he tells Dave.

"Hey…sorry to ring you while you're at work," he starts, and he stops, because he  _really_  doesn't want to say what he needs to say.

"It's okay. I wouldn't have answered if I was busy. I'm just sitting in the office. Paper work…"

"Okay. Um. That's good. Look… I have to go back to LA. I've left one of my sample books at work, and I can't get any further with what I'm working on without it…and it just…sucks. But I really need it."

"That really does suck."

Kurt can hear the disappointment in his voice, and he's quiet because he already feels like shit.

"So, you going to go and pick it up, or get your intern to bring it to you?"

"I…wait. What?"

"I – "

"No, I heard you. But that's it. You're a genius. Brilliant. Thanks. I'll see you when you get home," Kurt says, and he hangs up without saying goodbye, but Dave's solution of flying Vicky out with the sample book is perfect, and while Vicky can be a complete ditz, she hasn't screwed anything up that's related to work…yet. He quickly calls Dave back, and Dave answers with a very amused  _hello_.

"Sorry, didn't mean to hang up on you. I just need to phone Vicky. I hope you're having a good day. See you later. Bye."

"Bye."

And maybe Dave was going to say more, Kurt's not sure, because he's kind of hung up on him again.  _Oops._

* * *

The exclamation of ' _you must be Kurt's best friend!_ ' is what greets him when he comes home on Wednesday after work. He quirks an eyebrow at Kurt, who rolls his eyes in response.

"Vicky. My best friend is a black woman called Mercedes. Not a white man called Dave. You  _know_  that."

"Oh. Yeah. Then why are you staying here?"

"Because the sex is better here than at Mercedes'," Kurt replies, straight faced, and Dave bursts out laughing, heading down the hall to get changed out of his suit. He hadn't been sure what to expect with Vicky. She's friendly and bubbly and he can tell from how Kurt was talking about her yesterday that she drives him insane. He can't help but find it hilarious. When he comes back out barefoot in jeans and t-shirt he heads straight for the kitchen. Kurt has Vicky's computer set up on the table beside his, is explaining something about needing to embroider a collar, and Vicky is asking questions which _aren't_ making Kurt annoyed. Instead he's answering with short descriptive answers.

Dave cooks dinner for the three of them before heading out to training, leaving Kurt the car so he can take Vicky back to the airport. He's kind of glad he's gotten to meet her, it means one less strange face when he goes to LA next month, although from what Kurt has said, he'll only be meeting a handful of people anyway, which is fine with him. He's looking forward to the break, he's never spent time in LA, except one of the airports while en route to some vineyards that Greg needed to visit for a job. Kurt's promised him a day off, so they can go and do the tacky touristy things together, and Dave can't help but look forward to it.

* * *

They're carrying out their nightly routine. And he's  _not_ freaked out about the fact that in seven days they've already developed a routine. Okay, maybe a  _little_  freaked out. Dave is brushing his teeth, and Kurt's eyes are drawn to the drawer. The same drawer he'd gone through on Monday afternoon. It's a large drawer, the largest at the bottom of a dresser, about a foot and a half high, four feet long and about three feet deep. That's a lot of space for toys. And it's fairly full.

"Have you used everything in there?" Kurt asks, and he's curious, because while he'd always thought of himself as fairly adventurous, he's never had access to that many sex toys before and is starting to feel like maybe his sex-life has been painfully vanilla. Not that he's ever minded, but he's pretty sure some of those would be like adding sprinkles, or chocolate sauce…

"Used what?' Dave asks, speaking around his toothbrush and poking his head round the door.

"The stuff in there," Kurt repeats, and this time motions with his hand toward the draw. Dave shrugs, head disappearing and then he's back in the bedroom, tiny flakes of white on one corner of his mouth.

"Yeah. Most of it. No point in having stuff I don't like or don't use…"

"I…guess that's fair. I just…I suppose I just thought you'd not have been very adventurous. Don't ask me why I would have thought that…"

"Well, I might not have been. I just lucked-out with Keegan I suppose. He's a kinky fucker, and I did say that he took my sexual education very seriously…" Dave says as he slides into the bed beside Kurt, hand going to his hip to pull him closer.

"How seriously?"

Dave pauses, and Kurt bites his lip, eyes on Dave.

"I…how much do you want to know? I mean…there's a lot. And nearly all of it involves Keegan…"

Kurt studies him for a moment, because it's one thing to know that past boyfriends exist, but to know details? Particularly about a guy still in Dave's life?

"I…can you keep it general?"

"Well, not really. I mean, you're going to know it was all with Keegan anyway…you want me to tell it in story format? I could you know…Once upon a time there were two guys called…uh…Damian and Kyle."

Kurt shoves him and Dave laughs, and he feels himself relax and Dave's hand squeezes on his hip ever so slightly. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling for a moment, and then looks back at Kurt.

"Keegan befriended me at a PFLAG meeting. The first one I ever went to. Mike was with me, and I think Keegan thought we were together, anyway, we became friends, then he realised that Mike and I were just friends and he asked me out…"

Dave stops for a moment, and Kurt feels slightly uncomfortable listening to this, and has no idea how he's going to feel once Dave starts actually talking about the more  _intimate_  nature of their relationship. He knows Dave still cares for Keegan, in the same way he cares for Blaine no doubt.

"Keegan was the first gay guy I ever talked to that didn't look…well…like the stereotype. He played ball and playing computer games and Xbox. He intrigued me, and he liked me…and he was hot."

Kurt bites back a grin, trying to imagine a younger looking Keegan, because he's good looking  _now_. He remembers being taken aback by the fact that Dave had gone for a taller bigger guy than himself, but listening to Dave explain it, it makes sense. He remembers something Dave said, about not being afraid to break Keegan, and it makes even more sense.

"I still wasn't fully comfortable with the whole being gay thing. Keegan kind of took it upon himself to help me find something to like about being gay. Him and Mike combined helped me a lot…"

Kurt keeps quiet, because he knows he's probably partially to blame for Dave's issues about being gay when he was younger. Not that he ever had the vicious intent to make Dave feel bad, but he's starting to realise that he's the stereotype that Dave probably compared everything to back then, including himself. It's part of their past though, and he's not going to bring it up.

"Anyway, Keegan's an accountant. He likes lists and order and…being in control. He made a checklist, and said I had to try everything once, because he wanted me to know about everything, and have at least tried everything I was comfortable with…"

"A list? Really?" The idea intrigues him, because he'd kind of worked through a mental list of his own when he was with Blaine, wanting to try everything because it was all so new. He's learnt more as he's gotten older of course, but nothing that's resulted in him having a stash of toys…he has a few. None of which he travels with, not after an unfortunate incident while visiting Australia, when he was accused of bringing a banana into the country only for the biosecurity control officer to open his bag to find his vibrating dildo. Humiliation, thou name art Kurt Hummel.

"Yep. It was a  _long_  list."

Kurt knows his mouth is open, but he does nothing. He doesn't really need to know any more, Dave's just made it pretty clear that he's tried nearly everything at least once. He does want to know what he  _hasn't_  tried though…

"What don't you like?"

"Well, there's stuff I've never tried, because either the idea just grosses me out or I'm just plain uncomfortable with the idea…so it's not that I don't like it, I just don't want to go there…"

"I get it, now tell me," Kurt replies.

"Drawing blood. I just…it belongs in the body. I…can't inflict pain. Eh. Pain like that inflicted using whips and crops, not a spanking type of pain."

"Spanking…" Kurt repeats faintly, his mind drawing up scenarios for the paddles. "Wait…you don't like inflicting pain? Um…I've kind of noticed that you  _like_ a bit of pain though…"

Dave chuckles in soft amusement and then shrugs.

"I don't know if pain is the right word…I like hands and lips on me, pinching and biting…I like that." He shrugs again, and he's got the delicate little blush on the apple of his cheeks. "I know I don't like more than that…not pain for the sake of pain. Sometimes though…"

Kurt likes this open frank conversation they are having. It reminds him of their talk in New York, which he realises they're going to have to repeat, but with the whole ' _this is actually a relationship'_  factored in. Which will be weird, because he still doesn't feel completely ready, but he can't deny his feelings for Dave. And he owes Dave honesty.

"Keegan liked being the dominant partner in bed. And I'm not…naturally submissive. Especially not in the way he wanted. Which was a big part of why he cheated, because we stopped communicating. He's a Dom now. Been trained and everything. Not many people know, but he's very good apparently, if you're into that sort of thing."

"That's what you meant when you said you're his type but he's not yours…"

"Mmm, an over simplification, but pretty much. He likes built guys with flesh on them. I think if I'd been happier being submissive all the time we'd still be together…"

"Oh…" Kurt's not entirely sure how he feels about that, but then realises Dave isn't ever going to become a pliant little sex-toy that will follow Keegan around on a leash. "So…anything else you don't like?"

"Meh. Not really. I don't like being held down…"

"Oh, so the ties are for you to use on someone else?"

"No, I don't mind being tied down and restrained…as long as it's with ties or purpose-built cuffs. I just don't like being held down…"

Kurt's throat is suddenly dry, the idea of Dave  _tied down_ …fuck. But he also can't really discern the difference that Dave is trying to make.

"What's the difference for you, between being held down and being tied down?"

"Being tied down shows implicit trust, willing submission. Giving up control to someone else. Someone holding me down by force? I just naturally fight back, and I…it's just something in my mind I guess. All my training is about not getting pinned down, so I instinctively fight it…"

"Oh. I…that makes sense. How about being told to lie very very still?" Kurt asks, and his voice sounds funny, scratchy, and he moves to straddle Dave's thighs.

"I can do that…" Dave replies, and Kurt can hear the hitch of breath and he grins down at him.

There's no more talking.

* * *

The interview leaves a bad taste in his mouth and a blackness in his heart. They always do. He's learnt how to deal with them now. Gotten better with dealing it all as well, over the years. He flicks a quick text to Kurt, telling him he's going to be late getting home, then heads to the precinct gym. It's nothing fancy, but there's a punching bag and a treadmill, and right now he needs the physical release of both. He works out until the tears mix with the sweat and then heads for the shower.

* * *

"I'm going first. I have to get the humiliation out of the way."

"I'm sure you're not that bad Dave…"

"Yeah, I am. Promise me you'll still love me when it's over?" Dave jokes, and Kurt's heart jumps, skips and stutters back into its normal rhythm. Something is off though, Dave's smile seems slightly brittle, like he's trying a bit too hard to have a good time.

"Always," he manages to get out, trying to sound equally joke-like. Dave grins at him as he heads up to the stage though and takes the microphone.

Kurt bites his fist, and he's not sure whether it's to stop hysterical laughter bursting forth, or to stop Dave from seeing his horrified look of embarrassment. Because he's right. He really cannot sing. Not that seems to be stopping him, he's up there effectively yelling the words out, eyes either fixed on the screen or on the ceiling. When he finishes he gets a standing ovation and lots of calls of congratulations, and Dave gets back to the table, laughing and shaking his head.

"Wow, you really can't sing can you?" Kurt mutters when he got back to the table to a round of standing applause from his workmates.

"No. But it makes everyone else feel better because they know at least they'll be better than me. And I look like a good sport."

"You  _are_  a good sport. Not many people I know are so willing to do something they're so bad at, let alone do it in a public place…"

"Gee thanks, this is doing great things for my self-esteem. We can't all be multi-talented like you," Dave mutters and Kurt laughs.

"Your self-esteem seems perfectly intact. And you're plenty multi-talented," Kurt replies, and his implication is clear, and it's picked up on by the others at the table. Mercedes mutters under her breath, and Mike just laughs out loud.

"I'm trying to enjoy myself here…" Jen says, and she's grinning, throwing a wink in his direction, and Kurt's pretty sure that between her and Karen Dave must get no peace in his life.

"So, how often does this happen?"

"Only once a year thank god…" Dave mutters, and he takes a gulp of water. He's been staying away from alcohol since New Year's, and Kurt can't say he blames him.

"And this is year number what?" Mercedes asks.

"Four," Karen supplies, and she is also slightly subdued, eyes flicking to Dave frequently, as if checking on him. Kurt doesn't know what has happened, but something has, because Karen is  _worried_  about Dave. He'd put money on it.

"So you come and…sing…once a year."

"You're polite to call it singing," Dave remarks, and he's smiling, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Kurt reaches out a hand under the table to find Dave's lacing their fingers together and squeezing slightly. Dave looks at him, lips twitching into a small smile, but his eyes soften and Kurt relaxes. Whatever it is, he isn't the cause of it.

* * *

He undresses with heavy limbs. He feels emotionally drained. The day he's had, followed by having to be social and happy have just exhausted him. He's not often bought to tears by his job, but the frustration and blocking he'd received today just  _kills_  him. Karen could tell he was upset. She's upset too, but has been dealing with this type of shit even longer than he has, although she's joined him a couple of times in thrashing the punching bag. Kurt though…he's pretty sure Kurt just assumes he's a beat cop. And even when he'd been doing that he'd seen some sickening things.

He feels Kurt rest a hand on his arm, eyes narrowed with concern and Dave tries to smile. Tries to push it to the side, because he doesn't want to bring this into the bedroom, or home at all really. Without saying anything Kurt finishes undressing him, fingers smoothing over tired muscles and he pushes Dave to lie down on the bed. He seems to sense that Dave doesn't want to talk, and instead starts to massage his back. It's not sexual. It warm and comforting. Loving. He buries his face in the crook of his elbow, because the tenderness in Kurt's touch might just break him into a million pieces.

Kurt folds himself around Dave as best he can, they're similar heights, so his legs nestle along the back of Dave's thighs comfortably, an arm curled beneath his head where it will no doubt loose circulation. He doesn't think Dave is asleep, but he keeps quiet, leaving Dave with his thoughts. He knows Dave will talk if he needs to. Hopes he will anyway, but he's pretty sure he's hurting right now, and this is the only thing he can think of that might help, and he can't bring himself to say the words aloud yet, so instead he mouths the words silently into the dark room.  _I love you._

* * *

The entire week he's wanted to say the words, and he's held back. He's pretty sure Kurt's not ready to hear them. Or say them. And he can't think of anything worse than telling someone you love them, then for them to stare at you blankly and say something back that isn't ' _I love you too.'_  But he wants to do something. Say something. Something that lets Kurt know that he's in this. In it with everything he has to give, and screw the distance, because they're managing fine and have been since their trip to New York in October.

He comes up with nothing, his mind turning over ideas and disregarding them like he imagines Kurt does when organising outfits and costumes in his head. They're at the airport, Kurt hunting through his pockets, and Dave knows what he is looking for, and it hits him like a kick to the stomach. He knows what to say. Or do rather. It will say  _everything_  he wants to say, and then probably more, and he doesn't need Kurt to say anything back, just  _accept_.

"Ha! Found them," Kurt says, and he pulls out the keys Dave had given him earlier in the week, and he starts untwining them from his own keys. Dave doesn't hesitate, he reaches out, fingers curling around Kurt's, closing around the keys, and he steps in to Kurt's space, lowering his lips to Kurt's ear and whispers ' _keep them'_.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may know, I know nothing about American football. Debraelq does. So she helped me out by not only being an awesome beta again, but also (once again) writing the football related stuff, because trust me, you don't want to read mine. (To give you an indication of my ignorance: I had Super Bowl on a Saturday originally – for those of you who are non-US like myself, it's called Super Bowl Sunday for reasons you know?)

 

**FEBRUARY 2026 – part one**

He's had three weeks. Three weeks with the weight of an extra set of keys in his pocket, and even though he doesn't need to carry them around with him, he does. The weight of them warm and constant in his pocket. The weight not being a weight at all, instead making him feel buoyed up. How Dave had just looked at him and Kurt had  _known_  what he was saying with the gesture. And now he has an extra set of keys to his own apartment in his pocket, and he's going to return the gesture.

He's cleaned, polished and re-stocked his bedroom supplies. He's even gone to the supermarket's website and had them deliver groceries. He feels like a child at Christmas time, all uncontrollable excitement and bubbling anticipation. He has an hour until Dave's plane is due to land, it usually takes him forty minutes to get to the airport, but he grabs his keys, because if he hangs about here he's likely to rearrange his sock drawer or something equally ridiculous. He wonders for a brief moment whether Dave goes on a cleaning frenzy, but he doubts it, because he's never given Dave enough notice before he turns up.

He waits by the arrival gate, and it feels odd. It's been a long while since he's met someone off a plane. He watches the people around him, and can't help but feel happy as he watches people arrive, looking for someone, and then joy as they recognise someone and the resulting hug or kiss or handshake or… _pat on the head_. Ah well, it takes all sorts. He goes back to watching the screens above the doors, hoping to catch a glimpse of Dave before he comes out. Arms wrap around him from behind, and a body is pressed against him and Kurt sways back, because he can tell it is Dave. He turns to face him and he's pretty sure their grins match.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How are you?" Dave asks, and Kurt can feel his fingers tugging at one of his belt loops.

"It's been three weeks. How do you think?" Kurt replies, and they've talked on the phone, even forayed into the realm of phone sex, or rather, visual-conferencing sex, watching Dave jerk off while he did the same. It has its novelty factor, but he much prefers Dave in the flesh. He presses himself against Dave and breaths in.

"Horny huh?"

"Very…"

"We've got two hours until the game starts…"

"I…right…"

He's a bit stumped, because when Dave had changed his flights to arrive a day earlier, he'd said in passing that he was flying out on the day of the big game, asked how big his TV was and well, he'd thought Dave was joking. Apparently not.

"So, this game is a big deal then?"

"It's the  _Super Bowl_. It's not just a game. And the Chicago Bears are playing. This isn't a  _big_  deal Kurt. A  _massive_  deal. They haven't made it to the Super Bowl since 2014."

"Oh. Okay then. Um…right. Just…one second. I need to make a call."

Dave opens his mouth but he steps away, holding up a hand to stop him, because  _shit_ , he should have thought about this. He knows what his Dad and Finn are like. Of course Dave is the same. Living and breathing football. And it's the  _Super Bowl_. He'd kind of forgotten that in the excitement of Dave's impending visit, and of course he's going to want to watch it. Even in his almost sport-free bubble Kurt knows Dave supports the Chicago Bears. He pulls out his phone and thumbs through to Cassie's number and lets it ring.

"Hey you…Aren't you meant to be picking up your  _lover_  from the airport?"

"God Cass, don't call him that…but yes, I'm here now. Look, do you think Renee would mind if we came round and watched the Super Bowl at your place?"

"Would you be bringing  _Dave_?"

"Oh for fucks sake…stop saying his name like that. Yes. Dave would be with me. I just…I don't think he's going to want to watch something this important to him on my TV…"

"You mean your tiny little flat screen you have in your kitchen?"

"Yeah. I…I'm an idiot apparently. I'll tell you about it when I see you."

"Okay. It's kind of sweet that you're thinking of what he wants like this… and as long as I get to meet him sure, come round. The game'll be on anyway. Reese is here."

"Oh.  _Brilliant_. What about Renee?" Kurt asks, rolling his eyes because Renee and Reese together is volatile combination. Reese and Cassie are far easier to deal with. Almost calm. If Renee's there he's taking Dave to a bar to watch the game.

"Nup. She's off on a set in Canada for two months. Reese is in a pissy mood though. Dick."

"Great. Well, thanks. I'll see you soonish I suppose."

Kurt sighs, but he knows he hasn't got much choice. He turns to go back to Dave to find him standing there, looking amused, rumpled and  _fucking hot_.

"Problem?" Dave asks, and an eyebrow goes up and Kurt bites his lip, because he's pretty sure Dave wouldn't go for a quickie in the bathroom. Hell, as much as he would like to think he himself would, he knows he would never actually follow through. Mores the pity, because his plans for them to spend the afternoon and evening in bed have just evaporated like water in a desert.

"I…my TV is tiny. And it's in my kitchen because I only use it to watch cooking shows while I heat my meals and pretend that I am actually cooking for myself. I kind of forgot it was the Super Bowl. And I know it's important to you, so I've just organised for us to go watch the game at Cassie's place. They have a large movie-screen with a projector. You'll -"

He's silenced by Dave's mouth on his and he just  _hums_. He's missed this. Three weeks is too long to go without. Dave's hands are at his waist, thumbs pressing against his hips and he pushes back, closer. He has to get Dave home, have sex and then get to Cassie's, which is a twenty minute drive in the opposite direction from the airport if there's no traffic. It's doable. Maybe.

"Do you have any idea how adorable you are?" Dave whispers when he pulls back, and Kurt shakes his head, still a bit dazed at the suddenness of the kiss. It must have looked positively pornographic. He chances a quick look around, and only one person is looking their way, and they're grinning.  _Pervert_.

"As long as I can watch the game I'll be happy…but being able to sit down and be comfortable while doing would be a bonus…"

Kurt nods, holding back a sigh, because he's been looking forward to seeing Dave for weeks, but Dave has probably been looking forward to this game for months. Years probably. He has no idea. The longer they hang around here though, the less time they have before the game starts. He goes to grab Dave's bag and notices a garment bag draped over it.

"A garment bag Dave? Really?" Kurt asks as he walks, pausing to pay for the parking on his way out.

"Shut up. It's my uniform. I have to wear it for a couple of the events. And my suit, because running workshops in jeans and a t-shirt just doesn't look professional…"

"You're running some of the workshops?"

"Yeah. Five of them over three days. Apparently I offer a unique point of view…"

"I'm sure you do…" Kurt replies, he doesn't mean for the words to sound suggestive, but they do, and Dave pulls him close for a brief one-armed hug.

Of course, the traffic doesn't cooperate. They're travelling at a crawl, and Dave's hand is on his thigh and he's swearing internally when he realises he's going to have to go straight to Cassie's if Dave is going to see the kick off. Which is apparently very important. He sighs and drums his fingers on the steering wheel, frustrated. With the traffic and with the fact that he's not jerked off in three days, wanting the pressure to build to an almost explosive level and Dave's hand on his leg is  _not helping_.

It takes nearly ninety minutes to get to Cassie's, and he can tell Dave is getting antsy beside him, the number of times he's glanced at his watch in the last minute alone. However his eyes go wide when Kurt greets the security guard and is let into the grounds of Renee's ' _house_ '.

"This is where Cassie lives…Renee's place."

"I…yeah. I figured as much. It's just…huge."

"You get used to it," Kurt replies, and he pulls into his usual parking spot.

"If you say so…"

"Come on…"

"I just need to get something out of my bag…something for you actually. Don't get your hopes up. It's just a Bears jersey…you're supporting them today."

"I had assumed I would be…my dad always made me support the Cleveland Broncos."

"Browns. It's the Cleveland  _Browns_ …"

"Mmm. Well, you would know. That looks a little big for me…" Kurt states when he sees the jersey pulled out, and their shoulder widths are similar, heights as well, but that's where the similarities end.

"Mmm… I bought it for me. You're just going to wear it…"

Understanding dawns and Kurt grins, because Dave really does have a thing for him wearing his clothes.

"Like that is it?"

"Always like that," Dave replies, and he kisses Kurt again, hard and fast before Kurt can do or say anything more. "Come on, we have ten minutes. And I suppose I actually need to meet Cassie and be polite…"

"Yeah, I suppose…" Kurt replies, and he's joking, but he lets out a little sigh, and Dave must pick up on it, because he pulls Kurt close, mouth going to his ear, voice coming out in a whisper

"Tell you what. You cheer for the Bears and if they win you can have anything you want. Anything at all," Dave says, and his eyes are dark with intent.

"And if they lose?"

"That's blasphemy. But if they do, then you get to cheer me up by giving me whatever I want…"

"Sounds fairly win-win for you…"

"Mmm, I agree. I like these odds. Now come on. Kick off!"

* * *

Dave knows if he weren't so focussed on the game starting in six minutes he would be in awe if the house as Kurt leads him through it. Kurt hadn't bothered knocking, just opened the front door and walked in.

"In there. It should already be on. I'm just going to find Cass and put this on…"

Dave nods, and for a brief second is tempted to tell Kurt to change right there, but he doesn't. Not only are they guests in this house, but he has a game to watch, and he knows Kurt would play dirty if he gave him any sort of encouragement. Although he's been surprisingly understanding when it comes to the game, because even though he'd told Kurt he wanted to watch the game, he'd kind of expected more histrionics. Kurt's the first guy he's been with that hasn't been as interested in football as him, and he can tell that Kurt switches off whenever he talks about it.

He slides the door open and steps into what is effectively a mini movie theatre. Fuck, no wonder Kurt recommended here to watch the game. The screen is about eight foot high and sixteen foot wide. And sure enough, the game is on, the commentators discussing the weather, so he has slightly more time than he thought he did. Around the room are couches and arm chairs and he's trying to decide between a two or three-seater when he notices the other person in the room.

"Uh, hey…I'm Dave."

He gets a grunted ' _Reese_ ' in response and Dave thins his lips. He's recognised him, but he doesn't want to make a big deal out of it. He chooses a large sofa that he and Kurt will both fit on easily, and strips off his jacket to reveal his own Bears jersey. He makes himself comfortable and draws out his phone, sending a quick text to Mike, who is having a Super Bowl party with all the guys from the team. Which Dave is missing so he can be in LA.

He's already leaning forward when they kick off, and he feels alone in his excitement. He has no idea who Reese might be supporting, he's been a silent and sullen presence, and Kurt still hasn't reappeared, and he would kind of like a beer and some snacks, because  _it's the game_. But he isn't leaving his spot to go find him. It's doesn't take him long to figure out that Reese is supporting the San Diego Chargers, his quiets  _tsks_  of annoyance at bad passes and plays.

The Chargers score the first touchdown though, and Dave can't hold back a small  _damn it_  of his own, because as much as he doesn't want to admit it the two teams are fairly evenly matched, and even though the Bears are pegged to win, he's learnt to never be confident over the outcome of a game.

* * *

"Three gay men watching the Super Bowl, there has to be a joke in there somewhere…" Kurt mutters, pulling his shirt off to replace it with the Bears jersey. He was right, he swims in it, not that he cares, because no doubt it's going to make Dave hot, which can only mean good things, so he's going to wear it, even if the fabric feels scratchy against his skin.

"I think that's being a bit harsh. Two of them actually want to watch it. And the guys are hot. You could watch just for that…just imagine them all shirtless, that's what I do."

"Huh. Yeah. Hadn't thought of that. They are pretty hot…tight clothes, sweaty…actually, I had thought of that, back in high school, and now when I watch Dave play…I think I just prefer watching people I actually know play. Hmm. Maybe just Dave."

"Boy do you have it bad…and I have yet to meet this elusive Dave. I can't believe you took him straight to the movie room."

"Shut up. And there were only minutes till kick off, and you'd have gabbed at him for at least fifteen. And he'd have let you, but been secretly pissed that he'd missed the kick off. There's halftime. You can grill him then."

"You know I will. Right, well…I want to watch it too. You're in the minority I hope you realise."

"Sweetie, you're the only woman watching, that makes you the minority."

"Eh. We all like cock. Here, help me with these…"

Kurt rolls his eyes at her comment, and takes the six pack of beer and bags of potato chips she's piling into his arms. She then loads her own arms up with more food and Kurt frowns.

"Is there going to be an apocalypse while we watch the game? Because that's the only reason I can see for having so much food. There's only four of us, not fourteen. Or even forty."

"We could be in there for several hours. Anyway, it's part of the experience to eat junk while watching," Cassie says over her shoulder as they walk down the hallway.

"Hmph. You should meet Finn, he'd like that kind of excuse. Wait. Several  _hours?_ "

"Well, yeah. A usual game is around three hours, can go longer…"

"It going to be like my own personal type of hell…"

"Stop being so melodramatic. You get to cuddle up with a hot guy…I get my dumb-arse brother who has an attitude problem," Cassie states, sliding the door open, and the sounds of two men yelling meet them. They're not yelling at each other though, which he'd kind of half expected, but both their eyes are fixed on the screen, and Kurt looks, but he has no idea what they could possibly be upset about. At least he knows which team to support, given that he's now wearing the same colours. Dave stands to help with the snacks, and he introduces him to Cassie.

"Dave. Nice to meet you in the flesh…heard so much about you. Seen more of course…"

"Uh, I'm not sure what you mean…"

"Oh for fucks sake Cass,  _shut up_ ," Kurt demands, because he still hasn't come clean about those particular photos on his phone. She snickers and Dave looks between the two of them, clearly suspicious.

"It's nothing. I'll tell you later," Kurt says to Dave, and across the room Reese snorts. Dave frowns in Reese's direction.

"Mmm, okay."

"I'm sure you will. Actually, you were going to tell me why you had to come here instead of watching it on you tiny TV in your kitchen…"

"Erm. Well, Dave asked me how big my TV was, and I  _thought_  it wasn't going to be a big deal, so I said, jokingly, that it was plenty big enough…"

"Must you make a sexual innuendo out of everything?" Cassie asks.

"Apparently yes…" Kurt replies, not amused by Cassie and Dave's joint amusement. He feels Dave's arms snake around him, one hand sneaking beneath the jersey, fingers tracing on his bare skin and oh…it's going to be four hours of  _teasing_. He can deal with that.

* * *

Dave settles himself back on the sofa, taking the proffered beer and snacks from Cassie, who reminds him of a younger and more stylish Karen. He stretches one leg out, his shoes discarded ages ago and tugs Kurt to sit in the V of his thighs. He doesn't feel threatened by Reese, not since Kurt cleared that matter up completely, but he wants to make it blatantly clear that they're together. And he really doesn't need an excuse to have Kurt near.

He manoeuvres a hand back underneath Kurt's jersey, stroking his thumb over the fine hair just below his navel and smiles when Kurt's breathing catches and is then let out in a slow shuddery sigh. Turning Kurt on hadn't been his intention, but Kurt doesn't know that, so he continues, his eyes on the game, but his mind switching between Kurt starting to squirm against him and the game, although Kurt is starting to get distracting.

"Stop moving…" Dave murmurs, his voice barely audible above the noise of the game.

"Stop stroking my fucking stomach," Kurt hisses back, and it's not anywhere near as quiet.

"Is that what he's stroking? Looks like something else from over here…"

"Cassie! For fucks sake!" Kurt exclaims as Dave whips his hand out from underneath the jersey, feeling his face heat, and it's been nothing dodgy, but the thought of someone thinking it was… Cassie is cackling, saying how watching them is better than watching the game, and Dave sits up, trying to draw away from Kurt. Kurt doesn't let him, instead plastering himself closer, but taking his hand and placing it where it was, but this time over the jersey. Kurt's blushing as well, and Dave gives him a quick peck on the side of his face, eyes on the screen though, because the Bears have suddenly taken possession of the ball.

It's been fairly standard so far, except for the Chargers' initial touchdown, but now the running back has made a break for it, ball under his arm and is sprinting toward the goal line.

"Go! Go!" Dave yells, and he notes even Reese is sitting forward in his chair, because he's running it back from the one-yard line. As he makes the touchdown, Dave can't help the grin on his face. The Bears have a solid team this year. It's taken them three years to get to this point, but they're good. There's no denying it.

"Man! Did you see that?" Dave asks, and Kurt nods and smiles and Dave can't help but feel a little disappointed, because if he were watching this with his friends they'd have all been standing and screaming at the TV.

"Hate to admit it but that was impressive," Reese states, and Dave's comment seems to break the self-imposed silence Reese had seemed to have in place. He starts talking about player stats, the offense versus defence strengths of both teams and while they talk their eyes are on the game almost continuously, only flicking to the other to drive home a point. He feels Kurt's hand on his leg squeeze occasionally, which he always responds with either a squeeze back or a quick kiss. He gets that this isn't Kurt's thing, and appreciates Kurt watching it with him, even if he's likely bored out of his mind.

He does perk up at the halftime show, which Dave doesn't get to watch, instead dragged into the kitchen to be vetted by Cassie. She's nowhere near as scary as Mercedes or Santana or Karen, and he's had to deal with some of them at the same time, so he just smiles and nods, promising he will never hurt or cheat on Kurt.

"Can you promise me as well that you won't take him away from me? From LA?"

Dave pauses, because that's a loaded question, and one he's not prepared to answer. Not her anyway. He's already started preparing something in his head for when this subject comes up with Kurt though, because he's already looking around and wondering if he could make this his life.

"I can't promise that. But Kurt's job and life is here, and I would never ask him to leave…"

"You wouldn't have to ask him, he'd just do it."

"I think you're wrong. He loves his job."

"Yes, he does. But I'm pretty sure he loves you more."

With that statement she'd left him, gaping, scrambling to follow her back to the other room so he wouldn't get lost.

* * *

Dave's had is heart and stomach in his mouth. The last few minutes of the game the Chargers had been leading, but only just. He could barely watch and Kurt had kept pulling his hands away from his face, repeating ' _it's only a game'_. Kurt just doesn't get it, which makes the fact that he's sat through almost the entire game, mostly quiet, makes Dave feel ridiculously warm inside, and when the Bears pull off a final field goal in the remaining two seconds Dave doesn't think the day could get any more perfect.

He's feeling sleepy in the car on the way to Kurt's place, and it's not even eight, but he supposes his body believes it's ten, and while he can sleep in tomorrow, he does have a busy week. He's not paying attention when Kurt pulls into the driveway of an apartment building, driving through to a parking floor. Dave would normally be making small talk, rehashing the game, but he keeps quiet, content to wrap an arm around Kurt's waist as they walk to an elevator, Dave's bags split between them.

When Kurt opens the door to his apartment Dave can tell Kurt is suddenly anxious about something, and he barely gets into the apartment before Kurt is turning to him, holding his hand out.

"Uh. These are for you. To keep."

He's holding out a set of keys, hand trembling slightly and Dave almost lets out a startled laugh, because Kurt looks as if he's going to throw up if Dave rejects him, which is ridiculous. He would never. It's far more likely to be the other way around, and they've already done  _that_  exchange. He takes the keys and slides them into his jeans pocket, his hand going back to capture Kurt's and pull him forward into a bruising kiss, fingers lifting the Bears jersey Kurt is still wearing, his body pressing along the length of Kurt's, and Kurt is already half-hard. Dave reaches a hand down to rub him through his pants, mouth moving to nibble on Kurt's ear, and he hasn't shaved because he knows how much Kurt likes his stubble, and Kurt is pressing against him and breathing in stutters.

"Come on, give me a tour. Just make sure it starts in your bedroom."

* * *

The conference opening was…boring. Necessary, but boring. Everyone wearing their uniforms (if they had them) and nametags, walking around and trying to be civil after however long they've travelled to get there. Dave was glad he'd flown in yesterday, because Karen looked harassed the entire time and Dave had wound up giving her a neck and shoulder massage just to save his ear getting chewed off. He's only one of a handful of guys attending a three-hundred strong gathering, and he's definitely one of the younger ones, so he'd gotten his fair share of sideways looks, and worse,  _advances_.

All of which he'd dealt with by gently declining or explaining his roll there. Now he's on his way back to Kurt's place. He could stay in the hotel that is hosting the conference, and it would be a lot more convenient. But convenience is overrated, particularly when he can be in Kurt's bed. He pulls the keys from his pocket, and he can't help but grin when he looks at them, because it's as good as asking him to move in. And okay, that's completely illogical given their current geographical locations, but it doesn't detract from the gesture. They've exchanged keys. Giving the other person free reign to come and go into the homes whenever. He slides his key into the lock and pushes the door open, tamping down on the urge to call out ' _honey I'm home'_ because he doubts Kurt would find it as funny as he would.

"You're in uniform…"

Kurt's voice stops him as soon as he's inside and he closes and locks the door behind him before turning to face Kurt. He grins, because he's now very familiar with the small flush on Kurt's cheeks, the look on his face when he's considering sex…and to be fair, he was probably considering it before Dave even turned up, but still…

"I didn't realise you had a uniform kink," Dave murmurs, and he's more than a little amused.

"Neither did I," Kurt replies, "I think it's just you," and he flushes wildly and Dave feels a little surge of triumph at the fact that Kurt clearly hadn't intended to say that. That he unnerves Kurt enough to make him honest.

"Good. Not that I can do anything with it right now, because this," he starts unbuttoning the jacket he's wearing "is unfortunately my dress uniform and I have to wear it on Wednesday night at the dinner, but after that…we can  _definitely_  play."

"Mmm…good. Because I kind of wanted to fuck you while you wore it…"

" _God_ …"

Kurt's fingers are at his belt, undoing the buckle and threading it out through the loops carefully before letting it drop to the ground. Kurt's moving almost painfully slow, fingers going to the button of his pants and flicking it undone.

"Because you  _did_  say if the Bears won I could have anything I wanted…"

"You're right, I did say that…" Dave replies, and the ball of Kurt's palm is firm and warm against his groin, pressing and stroking and his eyes are mischievous. "Mmm, but I'm pretty sure you'd let me have anything anyway, regardless of a bet…"

"You…may be onto something there…"

"Thought so…you need to go and shave."

His cock jumps despite Kurt having removed his hand, because there's only one reason he can think of why Kurt would want him to shave, although he wouldn't put it past Kurt to work him up just to inform him they're going out for dinner.

"Shaving for bed or shaving to go out?"

"Bed. Definitely bed. And then out. Maybe…if we have the energy."

* * *

Dave forces himself to go slowly, to be thorough. Kurt is standing almost directly behind him, bare chest pressed against his back, eyes watching over his shoulder, meeting his gaze occasionally in the mirror as he scrapes the razor down his face. They're both naked, but there's enough heat between them that he doesn't notice the cold tiles under his feet, or the chilly vanity against his thigh. He's far more interested in what Kurt's doing with his fingers, but he needs to focus on shaving. Kurt wipes the remaining shaving cream off his face, eyes meeting his in the mirror.

"Bend over…" Kurt instructs, his voice just above a whisper, and he nips his ear lobe. Dave follows the instruction, resting his head on his hands over the sink. He has no idea what Kurt might want, he's been fairly silent on the whole matter, but he's going to go along with it, whatever it is. He feels Kurt's tongue run over his shoulder, fingernails scrape the back of his thighs, deliberately rough, before both his arse cheeks are being held firmly apart and he can  _hearfeelsense_  Kurt kneeling behind him.

" _Oh fuck…_ "

"Mmm, soon."

Then he feels it. The broad wet swipe of tongue and he can't stop himself from jolting slightly, unprepared for it. He's pretty sure this isn't what Kurt had intended when he'd told him to shave, not that he minds. Kurt doesn't build slowly, like he does when giving a blow job, instead his tongue is moving steadily. Not hard and fast, but rapidly enough that it almost feels like a fluttering against his hole. Kurt's tongue moves constantly, licking and swiping, narrowing down to concentrate on his hole before giving a quick succession of stabs, followed by a circular motion around his hole and then more thrusts of his tongue, starting to go slower and deeper, Kurt letting his saliva make him slippery

"God Kurt…"

He can't say much more, his mind and body feeling disconnected and he closes his eyes so he can focus on the warm wet slide of tongue and the pressing of fingers into his arse cheeks, parting them to give better access.

"Watch yourself in the mirror."

He looks up to meet his own eyes, and his eyes are dark, cheeks pink, hair already darker and damper with sweat. Kurt's fingers feel slick and they slide past his hole several times before he lets one slide in. He pushes back against it, letting out a low moan. Kurt's other hand is scrabbling against the drawers, and he hears the tell-tale rustle of foil and he had to grin. Not even going to make it to the bedroom. He can live with that.

Kurt's tongue goes back to his hole, moving alongside his finger, and he can feel a trickle of saliva running down the back of his thigh. His cock has been half-hard since Kurt told him to shave; he's only getting harder and fuller, his cock and balls are hanging heavy and tight. He's torn between wanting to reach and touch, and waiting, because while the waiting can be torturous, the pay-off is nearly always worth it.

There're two fingers now, and Kurt is standing at the same time, purposefully dragging his cock up the back of his legs in a hot-sticky trail.

He pauses to slide a third finger in, and Dave lets out a long breath, then Kurt is leaning over him, chest pressed to his back again and a hand is wrapping around his cock and stroking with steady practised rhythm. Kurt is rutting against him slightly, his cock caught between his body and Dave's, his mouth on his shoulder blade licking and nipping. There's so many sensations, Kurt's fingers in him, another set of fingers wrapped around his cock, Kurt's cock hot between them, Kurt's mouth…he's still trying to watch in the mirror, and his eyes widen when he realises Kurt is watching him, eyes blown dark with arousal.

All sensations are suddenly gone, and it's a shock, having Kurt's body and fingers withdraw from him like that all at once. His reflection disappears for a second and he hears the tear of foil, a squirt and Kurt swearing under his breath about something. He looks down to hide a grin and then feels the head of Kurt's cock at his entrance, pushing steadily. He feels the achy burn and he pushes back, wanting more. He likes the initial sting of pain, but Kurt has been so careful with him, that the pain is barely there and it lasts bare seconds. He knows it is slightly masochistic, but it makes him feel  _alive_.

"Going to fuck you till you come…"

"That's usually how it works…" Dave mutters, and he doesn't mean for it to be funny, but he feels a snuffle of laughter against his back as Kurt presses deeper. He's fully sheathed, he can feel Kurt's almost too-soft pubic hair against his arse cheeks, and he pauses, hands on his hips, making shallow thrusting movements, before pulling nearly all the way back and then thrusting forward again forcefully.

"Jesus fucking Christ…" Dave mutters, because  _that_  isn't Kurt being careful. He pushes back, wanting more and Kurt obliges, setting a bruising pace that will no doubt leave him sore. He'll be able to carry this moment with him all day tomorrow, and probably the next as well. He can see Kurt in the mirror, and it's an enthralling sight. Skin shiny with sweat, tendons and muscles defined in his neck, shoulders and upper arms, the only parts of Kurt he can see in the mirror. He loves watching Kurt like this, all fluid grace and movement, intense concentration and desire.

Their eyes meet in the mirror again and Kurt  _smirks_ , as if he knows exactly what he's thinking, exactly how he feels right now. And it's probably not hard, because Dave considers himself pretty fucking easy to read, and it's not like he's kept secrets, but Kurt looking this confident is sexy. How he's transformed from being upset and insecure months ago to this confident and assertive person and he can't help but hope he's played a small part in the transformation.

The sound of flesh slapping and harsh shallow breathing is all the sound in the room, and it makes its own harmony in his head. Occasionally Kurt will run his nails down his back before returning the hand to his hip, tugging him backward ever so slightly to meet his forward thrusts, which are coming even more rapidly, frenetic.

"Come Dave…just…fuck… _please_ …"

He takes it as the plea it is, moving his hand, wrapping fingers around his cock and tugging almost violently. He is already close, but can tell that Kurt is closer and wants him to come first, wants to feel Dave come around him because it's one of his new favourite feelings. Dave isn't going to deny him that. Has no reason to. He lets go, feels everything in his body draw tight and then expand out in a rush. Kurt is moaning his name, and he doesn't think he'll ever get over the thrill of hearing his name on Kurt's lips like this as he comes.

They wipe each other clean, Kurt clearly amused as he wipes the front of the vanity cupboards with a wet facecloth and a sideways look at Dave. He just shrugs in response and rubs his smooth chin over Kurt's shoulder, enjoying the sensation of smooth skin against smooth skin. Kurt flicks of the lights, leaving it dark and leads him to the bed, pulling back sheets and blankets before pulling him down to join him. He's curling his body around him when Kurt speaks, and it sounds reluctant.

"Well that plan failed…"

"You had a plan? And it failed? Felt like a resounding success to me."

"I was  _planning_  to have you rim me while I gave you a blowjob…but I got distracted by your arse. It was a rather involved plan. I was going to rim you, and then put a plug in, to keep you stretched and then you were going to rim me, and  _then_  I was going to fuck you…"

"Oh…that was a good plan…" Dave says, and he has to admit to himself that the whole scenario sounds…intriguing. "There's always next time… can't let one little failure put you off. And all my hard work shaving wasted, whatever will we do…" Dave says, and when Kurt pokes him in his stomach in annoyance he knows it's fully justified but he can't help but grin into the dark of the room.

* * *

Thursday morning he wakes slowly and he can still feel the weight of Dave in the bed. It's a luxurious feeling to wake on a week day and not have to get up and go to work. Made better by the fact that Dave is in bed with him of course, on his back, body sprawled out. He could tell Dave had been exhausted last night, but the emotional type, the almost hunted type of exhaustion he remembers from last time he was in Chicago. It's unusual for Dave to sleep in like this, and he's fairly certain it's all linked. Dave's job, his tired emotional state sometimes and more than likely his tattoo, given the same looks he'd had when Kurt had first asked about it.

He's sure he could figure it out if he spent enough time on it, but he'd prefer to have Dave explain it to him. As if he can hear Kurt thinking about him Dave rolls onto his stomach, mumbles, and pulls a pillow over his head before settling back to sleep. Kurt lets him, and decides to try for some more sleep himself. They have nowhere urgent to be, and for purely selfish reasons he wants Dave to be well rested, both physically and emotionally, because he's pretty sure that the talk that they need to have sooner rather than later is going to be exhausting for the both of them.

TBC...


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the warning. (I put warnings at the bottom so I don't spoil things for people who don't want to know and have been waiting for this explanation for a freaking long time). Also, an almost picture of Dave's tattoo is on my tumblr account, and also on my LJ account. Sorry again for it being late (working on three things at once doesn't work too well for me). 
> 
> WARNING: If you have triggers please scroll to the bottom to read. A small part of this chapter may be difficult for some people to read.

**FEBRUARY 2026 – part two**

When he wakes later, Dave is awake, head propped up on his hand and staring down at him, smile on his face. He still looks tired, but rested, eyes are soft as they watch him.

"Morning."

"Mmm. Morning," Kurt replies, and he stretches out, deliberately pushing his own body against Dave's. He chuckles softly and presses a kiss to the side of his face that warms him inside. He doesn't want to ruin this quiet good mood, but they talk well in bed, when there is nothing between them. He's not sure where to start, what questions to ask. It's a bit like entering a minefield. He has so many things he wants to talk about he doesn't know where to start exactly, and he knows if Dave wants to shut him down he will, however he doesn't think it will happen. Not now.

"You're thinking very loudly Kurt…" Dave mumbles and he starts, because Mercedes says the same thing to him.

"Sorry…I didn't, I mean, I don't –"

"Shh…I didn't say for you to stop thinking. But you can talk you know. Ask. Tell. Share… whatever."

"Are you glad it's over? The conference?" It's the most innocuous question he can think of, and he's hoping he can lead into asking about his job.

"Fuck yes…it's exhausting. Everything about them. It's great, sharing information and learning new things and discussing techniques, but it's so emotionally draining at the same time… I enjoyed it though. Especially running the workshops. Those were probably the highlight. The most rewarding part definitely."

"What were the workshops about? I mean… I know it was work related, but what do you do exactly? For your job I mean? I've kind of gathered it's not fun, not that I can imagine any aspect of police work being fun, but… Do you deal with something really bad?" Kurt asks, knowing he's rambling, but unable to stop himself.

Dave has stiffened beside him, just slightly, and Kurt goes with his instincts, wrapping an arm around his waist and tucking his head under Dave's chin. It's not exactly comfortable, but he wants to hold Dave, because he can already tell that he's no longer happy and relaxed. He lets out a long breath, and it tickles the top of his head and he feels Dave relax again. Not completely, but enough.

"What I do is fairly specialised. I joined the force after completing my Bachelors in psychology, and they approached me about doing my doctorate and well…here I am."

Kurt's a bit stunned. He's not sure why, originally, months ago, he'd just assumed that Dave was a run-of-the-mill police officer; then he'd realised that Dave did something that required regular hours and not to be in uniform, at least not every day. To find out now though, months later, that Dave is a doctor. It explains his friendship with Mike a bit more clearly, how they met in college, because they were probably doing papers together, not just playing ball. He knows he still doesn't have the full story, because Dave has answered but also not answered at the same time, so he keeps quiet.

"My main role, uh, the one I specialise in… Well, I majored in child psychology and I specialise in interviewing children that have been abused."

He pulls away from Dave, wanting to look at him, see his face in the half-light and…he has no idea what to say. He'd never even realised that that type of job existed. Of course it would need to exist though, but he just can't get his head around how simply soul-destroying a job like that could become. Then pieces start falling and clicking, Dave not coming back from work that one night, Karen's worried looks, Dave's clear avoidance of the subject matter… He stares at him in shock.

"Fuck. That's… _fuck_. That has to be one of the worst jobs I have ever heard of…"

"Yeah well… it can really suck. But someone has to do it." His whole body shrugs, shifting slightly. "I'm unusual because I'm a guy. Most of the people that do this job are women. Thing is… in about a third of cases the abuser is a woman, so… between me and Karen we pretty much cover every base. Small petite woman and large muscular man. We've had it backfire a couple of times, with kids being shit scared of me, but it's been because they're scared of everyone… you really don't want to be hearing about all of this. It's rough and I try and leave it at work as best I can… plus I have to see a shrink myself, to work through shit, because it's… well, it's a shitty job. But it's so rewarding when you've helped a kid work through everything and prepare them for trial or giving video evidence and watch the utter scum be sent to jail. When they walk free, well… I prefer not to think about that."

Kurt doesn't know how to respond, so he just wiggles in close again and  _hugs_. Dave huffs into his hair, and without seeing his face it's hard to tell whether it's amusement or something else, but he doesn't stop hugging him, and it's more for himself than Dave, because he likes his tidy neat little world, where he can pretty much ignore some of the uglier facets of human nature, and yet Dave goes to work and faces them head-on every day, seeing how awful and ugly humans can be to their own kind, the most innocent of their own kind. Even just thinking about it, some of the things Dave must have had to deal with, make him feel like crying, and he realises then that Dave is rocking him slightly, trying to comfort  _him_. It makes him feel ridiculous, because Dave is the one with this job and yet he's comforting Kurt. Who works with fabric, and actors and a ditzy intern. Why he would need comforting he doesn't understand, but he feels better anyway with Dave hugging him back.

They lay there, silence stretching between them, and it's comfortable. He still has questions though, and now knowing the strength that Dave has to go to work every day goes some way to possibly explaining the tattoo. How Dave had talked about the tree being strong, but needing to bend because otherwise it would break. He wants a fuller explanation as to what it means, know  _why_  Dave got it. That's what he'd said, that he'd tell him what it meant, but not why he got it. Something like that anyway. He draws back slightly so he can see Dave's face, moves even further back so he can see the tattoo.

"And this?" Kurt asks, fingers tracing over the twisted-curly tree tattoo. Dave's eyes shutter closed and when they open again to meet his eyes he feels his gut clench. He's stripped bare. Kurt has to bite his lip from saying anything, taking back the question, because while he doesn't like the fact that he's dredging up what are clearly painful memories for Dave he knows it's important, so he needs to know. Needs for Dave to tell him.

"It's…complicated. Depressing. And…it's difficult for me to talk about. You really want to hear this?" Kurt nods. "Well. Okay…my second boyfriend. Rowan…" Dave starts, and pauses and Kurt frowns, trying to recall Dave ever mentioning him before.

He's still friends with Keegan, and he cheated on Dave. And Greg, his last boyfriend is only out of the picture because he's out of the country, and he knows Dave still talks to him and exchanges e-mails occasionally. Dave is one of those people that stay  _friends_  with their exs. And weirdly, it doesn't bother him. It would be slightly hypocritical if it did, considering his enduring friendship with Blaine. The name Rowan though? He certain he's never heard the name or met anyone in Dave's circle of friends with that name, and if he isn't in Dave's life then he must have done something fairly horrific or… he feels sick suddenly, not knowing how he knows, but knowing that he's about to hear something terrible. And he's made the connection that a rowan is also a tree…

"Rowan was…happiness and light. Slightly kooky. No, he was a lot kooky. He was one of those people that people always wanted to make sure were invited to parties, because he was so much fun to be around. He'd draw out the shy people; make sure everyone was having fun. Always deflected attention away from himself…"

Dave pauses again, either to gather his thoughts or simply lost in them. Kurt has picked up on the use of past tense, the hitching in Dave's voice as he talks and he has to close his eyes, because he's pretty sure he's going to cry. Part of him wants to put a hand over Dave's mouth, tell him it's okay, that he doesn't need to go on, that he gets it. The other part wants to know, so that he can be there for Dave, so no parts of their lives are hidden.

"He killed himself. Wrote a note on his arm and hung himself in our bedroom. I…was a mess for quite a while. I mean…I'm a fucking psychologist and I didn't even notice my own boyfriend was suffering… I…"

Dave stops then, his body starting to shake silently and Kurt presses himself to him, arms wrapping around him as best he can and he just  _holds_ , a couple of tears squeezing out of his eyes at Dave's pain. Dave cries with his whole body, and Kurt knows how exhausting it can be. He's glad it's out now though, like finally ripping off a band-aid to expose a wound to air. Sure he could have lived without ever knowing, but he knows that Dave was ready to share this with him, otherwise he'd still be in the dark. He's trying not to think about it, but he really hopes that Dave now lives in a different apartment.

They lay like that, arms wrapped around each other, blood circulation slowing to one of his arms because it's awkward, but he doesn't move or care that he's going to have killer pins and needles. Dave's pain is a thousand times worse. When he speaks again his voice is raw.

"Courage to get through it, understanding…that it wasn't my fault and that there was nothing I could have done, resilience to be able to move on with my life and not let it hold me back, love for life and people and finally sincerity, to say things and mean them…"

Kurt's lips feel swollen with the amount of chewing he's been doing and his throat is tight with the fuller explanation behind the little letters in the tattoo. The fact that Dave has it, that he carries something on his body with him always to remind himself that he's strong…well, he has to agree with Karen and say that the 's' has to stand for strength as well.

"And it's a rowan tree, well…for the obvious reason, but also because European mythology says rowans are magical trees that protect against evil. I'm not really superstitious but…protection helps. And I always use that as an easy explanation…unless someone's gotten close enough to see the letters…"

He hears the weak joke in Dave's voice, the desperation to turn the conversation to something else,  _anything_  else. Kurt obliges.

* * *

The day is spent quietly. Not doing quiet things, but they don't say a lot to each other. Kurt's body is always touching his though, be it knees pressed to his under the table, or walking hand-in-hand, or reaching out to place a hand on his thigh while he drives, Kurt is always close, as if he knows his simple physical presence will help. And it does. It's always helped. Dave isn't ashamed to admit he needs physical contact, be it from friends or family or…Kurt. He can't go any longer without it being said. Needs Kurt to know how he feels. Especially after this morning. Despite the sensation of being all talked out, they need to talk. And Kurt said  _those_  words, all the way back in October, and it's only four months ago, but it feels like so much longer.

They're sitting on the sofa and reading, Kurt's feet in is lap and he's stroking around his ankle bone absentmindedly, not reading the words on the e-reader in front of him, instead trying to think of ways to bring up the fact that they need to talk. He doesn't want to break the silence, but he's been holding it in for weeks, and all day he's forced himself to keep quiet.

"Kurt…" Dave starts, and his eyes flick up from his book and he's smiling softly and Dave just feels  _right_. "I'm in love with you. I love you."

Kurt doesn't say anything, but his eyes are warm and he's swinging his legs away from him and then moving to straddle him, and he cups his face in both his hands and just stares into his eyes for a few seconds before lowering his mouth to Dave's and giving him a slow thorough kiss for a few moments before pulling back.

"I love you too David Karofsky."

Kurt is smiling at him and Dave knows his answering grin has to be just as wide. He rests his hands on Kurt's hips, feeling overwhelmingly happy. They've said the words, they can sort everything else out later. Much later.

* * *

Dave is fascinated. He's never been on a movie set, but Kurt had walked through so fast Dave hadn't had time to take in much. There's dozens of people though, and it's like a separate community and everyone knows everyone else. He's had a few odd looks, but he'd just smiled benignly and hurried after Kurt. He's wearing a visitors tag, and he's sure his wide-eyed wonderment is making him stick out even further.

Kurt stops to talk to a few people, and he just hangs back, trying to look in obtrusive. Kurt is working. Dave is spending the day with him, because he's curious as to what Kurt's day consists of. So far he seems to have spent a lot of time on the phone. Kurt apparently has office space that he rents from the studio, which Dave has to admit he's curious to see.

When Kurt pushes the door open to another building and ushers Dave inside the first thing he notices is the riot of colour and fabric and loose pieces of thread on the floor and pins trampled into the carpet. This office space is a large creative working space, calling it an office is just wrong. There's cork pin boards with photos and fabric samples stuck to it. There's a massive bookshelf, and there are folders and books and…a golden statue being used as a bookend. There're photos in frames, and he recognises Mercedes, and Burt Hummel and Finn and his mom. All of Kurt's personality is here, and he's sure it's organised but it just looks chaotic to him.

There's a raised dais and mirrors surrounding it. There's also a camera and TV screen, although he's not sure what they're for. He hasn't ever thought about costume design, but it's clear just looking around the room that it's fairly involved. Vicky is sitting at a desk, sketching something out on a tablet but looking at a larger screen in front of her, and Kurt has headed to what is clearly his own desk. It is almost spotlessly clean, a computer set to one side with three monitors, two neat piles of paper and some unopened mail.

There's a chair opposite Kurt's desk, so he sits and makes himself comfortable, more than happy to watch Kurt work. Vicky hasn't seemed to notice their arrival at all, which doesn't surprise him. Kurt is busy starting-up his computer, and he seems to have forgotten Dave's there. It's fine with him, because judging from the way Kurt keeps glancing at his watch he either has somewhere to be, or someone coming to his office.

His suspicions are confirmed when he hears a knock and a glance behind him shows the door opening to reveal Renee Walker. She's followed by Cassie, who is talking into a phone and just waves in Kurt and Dave's general direction. Renee comes over and kisses the air on either side of Kurt's cheeks and then turns towards him, a perfectly shaped brow raised and a coy smile on her lips.

"And you're Dave…"

"I've already given him the hard word. And stop leering at him," Cassie mutters, pushing past her to pass some paper work to Kurt. "We've got thirty minutes before she needs to be in Lot three for a read through before she flies back to the set this afternoon. Fuck, if she wasn't my sister I'd have quit this job years ago," Cassie says, and it's all directed at Kurt, although Renee is glaring daggers at her. Dave withholds a chuckle but Kurt is smiling ever so slightly, drawing a measuring tape from a draw to his side and he lets it unravel from the coil and then runs it through his hands.

Dave watches as Kurt runs the tape through his fingers and directs Renee to stand on the dais where he can measure her. He's never thought watching Kurt measure someone could be…arousing. He wonders if Kurt is being overly provocative, if he knows that each time he bends down the material of his pants draw tight across his arse. Except Kurt is calling out numbers to Vicky, who is writing them down on a piece of paper. Kurt looks the full part of a professional so Dave is pretty sure he's unaware of how good he looks tugging that tape between his hands and bending over.

"You're practically salivating…" Cassie remarks, and she's leaning against the desk, eyes on him and Dave knows he's just started to blush. He shrugs. There's no use denying it, it's nothing to be ashamed of, being attracted to Kurt. "He does have a cute arse. I'm jealous of it sometimes…"

When Kurt turns around to the sound of their joint laughter they both refuse to tell him what they're laughing about.

* * *

It's Dave's last night and Kurt is determined to take Dave to his favourite restaurant. He's tried twice before and been distracted both times. Tonight he's not going to be distracted from getting out of the apartment but when he steps into the entrance-way of the restaurant he's reminded that this is also Alex's favourite restaurant, because Alex is standing right there in front of him. Kurt rolls his eyes and Dave frowns, lowering his mouth to Kurt's ear and whispering  _'what?'_

"Alex. My ex," Kurt replies, keeping his voice low, but not low enough apparently, because Alex is turning, and taking a step towards him.

"Kurt, babe, it's good to see you…"

Kurt can't believe that Alex is actually moving forward as if to hug him, or kiss him on the cheek. He steps back and raises a hand, ready to push him away if he gets too close and he's pretty pissed off at the familiarity, as if he has a right to it.

"You do  _not_  get to call me that. You gave up the right to call me anything but Kurt months ago," he says, and his voice is void of emotion. Alex stiffens slightly at the tone, his eyes harden and Kurt recognises the signs of Alex thinking he's been hurt, preparing to lash out.

"I see you've moved on from Reese Walker already…" Alex states, and Kurt rolls his eyes. Dave huffs in amusement and his arm circles around Kurt's waist in a gesture of comfort or support, he's not sure.

"Kurt hasn't had to move on. He's more than man enough to handle both me and Reese," Dave states, and his voice and tone is matter-of-fact and Kurt manages to not gape at him or burst into laughter. Alex's eyes have gone wide, and Kurt steps around him to give his name to the maître d'.

"You're adorable when you're pretending to be pissed off…" Dave whispers in his ear as they are led to their table and Kurt looks up in surprise.

"I'm not pretending. I  _am_  pissed off. Just not at you."

"Mmm…well, you're hot when you're angry."

"I…am I?" Kurt asks, stopping in his tracks and Dave has to nudge him to get him moving again.

"Yep. Well, I think you're hot all the time, but there's something to be said for the passion in your eyes when you're angry…"

"It's called annoyance."

"Mmm, okay. Think I'm destined to always find you hot, no matter what your mood."

"God you're a sap…" Kurt says, shooting a glance over his shoulder, and Dave is grinning at him

"Yep. Your sap."

Kurt smiles back.  _Yeah. All mine._

* * *

"Hey…" Dave greets, and Kurt's body is flooded with warmth. There's no sickly-sweet endearments or pet names, but the amount of heat and feeling in that simple greeting have Kurt feeling flushed and  _god_ , he's starting to get turned on because of a simply fucking greeting, and it's just… _wonderful.  
_

"Hey yourself. How was your day?"

"Good. Apparently my seminars that I ran had a lot of positive feedback, so my captain thinks I'm pretty hot stuff right now. Not that he doesn't usually, but it's nice for him to hear it from other people once in a while."

Kurt likes the fact that Dave is confident in his job, despite it sounding soul destroying. It's been ten days since Dave left, and while he's sure Dave intended for them to talk about it, their relationship hasn't been talked about. No more than exchanging keys and words of love, which is all Kurt needs to know that they're both in it, are going to try and work this out. They just need to discuss the logistics.

"We're really doing this aren't we…" Kurt says, and he feels a little thrill of exhilaration at the words.

"Uh. You mean this whole long-distance relationship thing?"

"Yeah…" Kurt replies with a sigh, the words  _long-distance_  and  _relationship_  hang in the air but they don't feel suffocating like he thought they might.

"Yeah, we really are. I think we've been doing okay so far…"

Kurt hums in agreement, because Dave's right. Despite them not having defined it before, they've spent two weeks together this year already, and they're only seven weeks in. He's not sure if a relationship can work when they'll only see each other a week a month, because that's what he can afford to not be in LA for, maybe two if he were extra organised and had a proper home office set up in Chicago, but he doesn't care, he wants this to work, wants to be happy and more than anything he wants Dave to be happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Fairly detailed talk of suicide (an OC, not a character). Also reasonably obscure mention/discussion of child abuse. PM me and I can send you a separate sanitized chapter to read instead, and then you can come back to the main story next chapter.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I have a 'new' computer – half the keys on the keyboard stick or need to be thumped really hard. I've tried to catch as many typos as I can, but the letters f, g and h seem to be the worse culprits.
> 
> 30 degrees Fahrenheit is -2 degrees Celsius.
> 
> While I was writing this I was on tumblr and vomiting-rainbows reblogged a song, and I made the mistake of listening to it, and it spawned Dave's bad day at work. I know exactly what has happened, but it is just implied here.

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – MARCH 2026 (part one)**

Kurt had studied his calendar long and hard, shuffled key meetings forwards and backwards, spent time organising his sample books and digitising swaths of fabric so he can use them in sketches. He doubts he's ever been this organised before in his life, and he knows exactly the reason why. Dave. Chicago. If he wants to spend more time here, he needs everything to run smoothly in LA. This is his first visit since January, first visit since they've decided that this is an official relationship, so he finds himself analysing everything more closely. It isn't a holiday. He needs to see whether he can make this work both for his and Dave's sakes.

Dave's left for work already and he's set himself up on the dining room table again. He's making a mental list of things which need to be remedied; the dining room table is not an ideal work space, mainly because he feels that he has to clear it so they can eat dinner there in the evening. He's sure Dave wouldn't mind him leaving it all there and them eating from their laps, or sitting at the kitchen bench, but he  _enjoys_  sitting down and having a meal with Dave at the end of the day, it's part of being here with him. Playing with each other's feet under the table, Dave occasionally stretching out enough to rest his foot against his cock, grinning at him as if what he's doing is completely innocent.

Just like before they've slid into an easy routine, and it no longer freaks him out in the slightest. Instead, it's reassuring that they can adapt to each other so easily. It's his fourth day here, only a Tuesday in an entire week, when he flies back to LA on Sunday morning. Dave hasn't altered any of his plans, simply incorporated him in to those activities Kurt has expressed an interest in joining, otherwise just leaving him to his own devices. They have dinner planned on Friday with Mike and Mercedes, but apart from that Dave is continuing with his karate training, football training and swimming. Kurt joins him in the gym in the building, runs on the treadmill, and he's looking forward to summer when they can go running outside together. However despite being here, exercising and working and having fantastic sex he feels restless.

He usually can't pinpoint the reasons for his restlessness so quickly, but he's becoming more aware. Winter up north always gets to him like this. Suddenly feeling caged and confined. In LA he can get out into the open year-round. Here, well, he can get out in the open, he just risks exposure while doing so. He knows it's not that bad, but after years of living in LA he's pretty sure he's softened against the elements somewhat. Thinking about it is simply increasing his need to get out of the apartment, even if it's just to be indoors somewhere else. He calls the one person who he knows is always happy to see him.

* * *

Mercedes sits opposite Kurt and grins.

"I could get used to this you know, seeing you so much I mean. And you being so happy of course. It's nice."

"Well, it does make a pleasant change. A permanent one too I think."

"Really? How permanent?" Mercedes asks, eyes lighting up and Kurt winces, knowing she's suddenly thought that he's talking about moving to Chicago permanently. He shakes his head.

"I meant the being happy part. But…I'll be in Chicago as least one week a month. You'll definitely going to be seeing more of me."

"Is it going to be enough?"

Her expression is suddenly serious, concerned and Kurt feels touched that she so obviously wants him to be as happy as she is in her relationship.

"I… don't know. It'll have to be. At least to start with. I've already booked flights for another week at the end of the month. It's just…difficult to work without a dedicated space which can  _stay_  a dedicated space for the entire time I'm here, you know?"

"Mmm, yeah, you do tend to spread out. So, what are you doing at the moment?"

"Packing it all up before Dave gets back from work…"

"That's…less than ideal."

"Yeah. I know."

"How about his guest room? Could you spread out in there?"

"I thought about that, but I really need a desk, and it's Dave's guest room. Which is used for guests. Like Greg, who will be back for a visit soon."

"Oh, his last ex?"

"Hmm. Yeah. He's coming back for his dad's sixtieth or something and popping in for a couple of nights to see Dave…" Kurt replies.

He's not exactly sure how he feels about Greg visiting. He's not worried or concerned that Dave might suddenly decide to up and leave for London, but he's fluttery-anxious because Greg is an unknown. He hasn't even seen a photo of the guy, because he's always been behind the camera apparently. Dave's described him with a shrug and a ' _he's good looking enough I suppose'_  and Kurt's not sure if he's being deliberately vague, or whether Dave honestly doesn't remember what Greg looks like. It's more likely that Dave doesn't care.

"Does your next visit coincide with his by any chance?"

"I… _yes_. But the tickets were booked before Dave even mentioned it to me. So it's not me checking up on Dave. Or scoping out the ex. Well, it  _wasn't_."

"I never said it was…" Mercedes says, but her lips are pursed in amusement and Kurt can tell she's laughing at him inwardly. He pokes his tongue out and takes a sip of his coffee. It hadn't been the original reason, but it's definitely an added bonus that he gets to meet Greg and make his own assessment.

"I'm curious about him though. Dave doesn't even have any pictures of him, and he has pictures of pretty much everyone, including you."

"Really?" Mercedes asks, looking pleased and Kurt chuckles.

"Yep, he has several digital frames, lots of pictures."  _But none of me_.

He finishes the thought silently, because he tries to be confident, knows there will be a reason why Dave hasn't got any pictures of him. There are no pictures of Greg or Keegan either. Well, not of Keegan by himself. Just hanging out with the football team. He doesn't think there are any photos of Rowan either, except there doesn't need to be when Dave carries around a permanent reminder on his arm.

"So, we've chosen a date," Mercedes says, and his attention snaps back to the tiny coffee shop.

"When?" Kurt asks, fully expecting some time next year.

"Twenty-ninth of August. This year."

"What! That's only…five months away!" Kurt exclaims, eyes bugging. He can't imagine planning a wedding in such a short time-frame but Mercedes is looking deceptively calm.

"We're getting married in our church, where we met, and thought we could have the reception in the church hall."

He blinks. Of course. He isn't dealing with an over-the-top Cass wanting all the trimmings, pomp and circus. Mercedes and Dave are both big on family. He imagines a much smaller and more intimate affair than Cassie and Marcus' wedding. Mercedes has already asked him to help plan everything, and he'd jumped at the chance, because he loves celebrations of all kinds, and it's for his best friend.

"Also, you have to add another job to your list," Mercedes says, and she suddenly looks nervous, as if she's afraid of his response. Kurt leans forward, suddenly worried, because she should know by now that he would do anything for her.

"What?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to design my wedding dress…"

"Of course! I'd love to…did you think I wouldn't want to?"

"Well, that's not all of it…I was kind of wondering whether you'd stand up with me on the day." Kurt just nods, because he's biting his lips, happiness and joy bubbling up inside of him and he has to get up and hug her. She hugs back with a fierceness he hasn't felt in a while from her, and it makes him ridiculously happy that he has more than just one excuse to be spending so much time in Chicago. She'd already told him the day after Christmas he was going to be her head-bridal-party person, but it had been happily slurred and she hadn't mentioned it since.

"So…we have to go dress shopping and get you to try on some dresses. Then you can figure out what you like and don't like, rather than just giving me a blank slate. That type of shit doesn't work for your wedding day, okay?"

Mercedes smiles almost shyly, and Kurt knows she'd thought she would never get married. Had given up looking and was more content to have just her friends, family and the kids through her job. If Mike can keep her looking this happy and radiant Kurt will love him almost as much as he loves Mercedes. He means it about the wedding dresses though, needs to see her in a few to learn what looks good and what doesn't, along with what she's comfortable in and what colour looks best. If she even wants a shade of white. His mind is already going through ideas and patterns, and he has no idea how long he's been lost in his thoughts when her voice breaks through.

"You know…I've just had a thought. I know I live like fifteen minutes away from Dave's place, but you drive further than that to the studio, and it would probably feel like you're actually leaving the apartment for work… You could use my office. At my place I mean. You'd probably have to dust it first."

Kurt forces his mind to do a complete one-eighty and stares at her, his mind whirling. Mercedes' home office is large and relatively empty, her four folders tidied away with precision on a shelf above a laptop she hardly ever touches. He opens his mouth to say something then closes it again sharply, still considering it. It's an almost perfect solution. There's plenty of space, it would force him to leave the apartment, he wouldn't have to pay rental for another office he's only going to use one (okay, maybe two) weeks a month.

"Also you could take Theo out for a run. He'd like the company during the day…"

He knows she's trying to sell it to him, realised that making it a more appealing option will not only have him spending more time in Chicago, but more time with her. She's right though. If he could have a place all set up for the week, a place which forces him to get out of the apartment, a place which he feels comfortable in like a second home. It's perfect. He'd just need the means of getting here and then returning to Dave's at the end of the day. He could hire a car, or get a cab. He'll price it out. He earns enough to do whatever is the most convenient, however he hasn't gotten the bank balance he has by throwing his money around either.

"I like the idea…" he starts slowly, and Mercedes' face lights up. "But let me think about it. I still have the key you gave me back in August, and I figure you haven't changed the alarm code?"

"Nope. So just let yourself in and make yourself at home. You should trial it out."

Kurt smiles noncommittally, but it does seem to be a plausible solution, even just in the short term.

* * *

"Why don't you have any pictures of me?" Kurt asks, and he's barely through the front door, so he can tell it's something that's bugging him. Yesterday he got a make-out session when he got home. He shrugs off his outside jacket and hangs it by the door, thinking over the question in his head. Kurt's standing in the doorway through to the lounge, and he doesn't look upset, just curious. It's like the nicknames in his phone all over again, something he apparently can't figure out. It's simple though, and kind of amusing.

"The only photos I have aren't exactly ones I think you'd be happy with me having displayed in the lounge."

Kurt flushes immediately and he knows Kurt is recalling the pictures he's taken of them in bed together. Nothing explicit, but Kurt's creased face and hair sticking up in several directions. Drooling. Falling half out of bed. Wrapping himself length ways in the duvet and calling himself a sushi roll. These photos are for him. Not for other people to see.

"Oh… what about pictures of Keegan or Rowan?"

"Uh…how do you think I'd feel bringing a date back here and having photos of my exs' flicking past as I made out with my date?"

"Except for the fact that you don't date…"

"Well, not now obviously. But I did before. I have had some  _horrible_  dates."

Kurt doesn't look impressed with that news and his eyes narrow, speculative. He doesn't want to talk about that now, so he approaches him, wraps arms around his waist and buries his nose into Kurt's collar, inhaling deeply.

"I could get used to this far too easily…" he says, and then winces, not really wanting to have said the words aloud. Doesn't want to have broken the easy understanding they've slipped into. Doesn't want Kurt to feel guilty that they can't be together all the time; especially when they've only just started out in his mind.

"Me too…" Kurt agrees, and he relaxes, smiling in to the side of Kurt's neck before starting to lick and kiss his way around and up to his mouth. "You have football practise…training…thingee."

"It's over an hour away…" Dave mutters, rubbing his jaw along the side of Kurt's, knowing the scrape and drag of his stubble does things to Kurt, makes him unusually pliable and always more than willing.

"Oh, well then…if you're determined."

His voice is coy, trying to sound detached and uninterested, but his body is thrust forward, moulded against his and Dave has to chuckle quietly.

"Definitely determined," Dave murmurs, manoeuvring Kurt around so that he's braced against the doorway, inserts a knee between his legs and Kurt loops his arms around his neck.

"So. How was your day?"

"It's starting to look up…"

He's ten minutes late to training.

* * *

The call from Blaine catches him unaware. They usually e-mail each other, their schedules so hectic that trying to talk on the phone becomes too difficult to even contemplate. He's taken Mercedes' advice. Is set himself up in her home office, and it's proving to be a productive work environment. No distractions. Except his phone.

"So, you want to tell me why you've been spending so much time in Chicago?" Blaine asks, and Kurt grimaces. He's been meaning to tell him but really doesn't want the fifth degree. Blaine always gives his opinion on whoever he's dating. He didn't like Alex, wasn't afraid to tell him so, and Kurt had distanced himself for that reason. He has to give Blaine credit for never having said ' _I told you so_ ' although he's sure Blaine has thought it a couple of times.

"I…well, I've kind of…started seeing Dave."

Blaine lets out a long sigh and Kurt doesn't know how to take that without seeing the look on his face. He's not sure whether to expect a lecture on how unhealthy the relationship is likely to be, or how he's just jealous that he didn't get it first.

"Yeah, I figured you had. You guys been together, what, six months now?"

"What? No! Only since last month… well, officially since last month."

"You guys were screwing when you were here right?"

"No. We weren't. Well, I…we were just fooling around maybe?"  _Except not_.

"Well, if the photos you sent through from Christmas are any indication you're looking really good. If he's the reason then I hope he keeps it that way. Anyway, anyone's better than Alex."

And there's the kicker, and Kurt rolls his eyes, but he also knows that Blaine would move heaven and hell for him if he asked. Blaine might annoy him, but he knows he annoys Blaine right back.

"He is infinitely better than Alex. In every single possible way."

"Oooohhh, are you going to share? I'm in the middle of a drought. I need to live vicariously through you. Tell me tell me tell me…"

"I…" he pauses. He would normally share every detail, him and Blaine learnt about sex together, have always tried to develop an open conversation about it, that if nothing else. However he now has it with Dave as well. For all aspects of his life.

"You're in love with him."

"Yeah. I am."

Blaine lets out another long sigh.

"Okay. I suppose I better get to know him then…"

Kurt frowns. Blaine's never offered to get to know any of his previous boyfriends. Has demanded to meet them, sure. Made a passing judgement and then a prediction about how long the relationship will last. And he's nearly always been right. He suddenly doesn't want Blaine to make a predication with Dave. Doesn't want him to give it a time limit. Doesn't want to know.

"He's a different person from before. From high school I mean."

"I would hope so. I would hope we all are. But I saw him in New York, he's comfortable in his own skin now. Confident. Sexy. And also while Rachel was freaking out how you were going to react to him being there he was looking at you with true concern, which tells me he cares about you. Truly cares about you. It was…good to see."

"Oh."

He's not sure what to say to that. He remembers Blaine saying something about Dave calming him, or how they should be together, but his overriding memory is of Blaine saying he'd go after Dave himself and his instant dislike of that scenario in his head, even though he knew Dave would never go for it.

"Mmm. Oh. Have you guys said the L word then?"

"Yeah. Last month. We're just trying to figure out how to work this long-distance thing. My job is more flexible than his, and I'm pretty productive without people walking into my damn office all day every day. And Vicky is shaping up to actually be irreplaceable."

"L word. That's…good. I think it'll work out…I mean, you guys have the same roots. You both go back to Lima for you main holidays, which will help. And as I said just before, you're looking good."

"Thanks," Kurt says, and he knows he's probably blushing, because a compliment from Blaine can still affect him. "So, what did I do to warrant a call anyway?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, I phoned your office and Vicky said you were in Chicago. Again. With Dave and Mercedes. Although she kind of made it sound like a weird three-way relationship you guys were having, but I just figured she had the wrong end of the stick. She had the wrong end of the stick right?"

"Of course she did! But if I was going to be with any woman it would definitely be Cedes' but I just…erg. Vicky."

Blaine is laughing loudly down the phone and Kurt pushes back from the desk in the swivel chair, twirling around, feeling stupidly carefree.

"Yeah. I tried to correct her, but she was convinced you were having sex with Mercedes but staying at Dave's. So I had to call you on your cell."

"Yep. I've set myself up in Mercedes' home office for work. It's only the second day, but it's surprisingly efficient. No one bothers me and I do a visual conference with Vicky for an hour, sometimes two. I think I'm actually going to be ahead on this project time wise."

"Projects! I remember! You know the job I e-mailed you about, the one I interviewed for two weeks ago?"

"Yeah, the one in London…"

"I got it! It's a year contract with an option for extending. It starts in June. I'm going to London!"

His excitement is palpable and Kurt laughs. He likes London, can see Blaine there easily and knows he will like it just as much, if not more. He ends up talking to Blaine for nearly an hour, and when he ends the conversation they have plans for an epic farewell party Memorial weekend at the end of May back in Lima.

* * *

"I'm going to miss you…" Dave says the words quietly into the dark, lets them float in the air between them. Kurt's breathing has been regular for a while, he could be asleep. He just wants to say the words aloud. Kurt flies home tomorrow, the week going by too fast for his liking.

"I'm going to miss you too… especially at night."

"I…yeah. I know what you mean. I can handle the days without you…the nights without you however…they might just kill me."

"Do you…not want to do this?" His voice is shaky and he immediately moves to envelope him in his arms, reassure him that if anything he means the opposite.

"If I have to choose between not seeing you one week a month or not seeing you at all? It's a pretty easy choice for me Kurt."

"Two weeks a month sometimes…"

"Yeah. Two weeks. You living in LA just makes me appreciate the time we do have together even more…"

"You are a romantic sap David Karofsky."

"Guilty as charged."

* * *

Mercedes waits for Theo to stop sniffing everything in the garden before bringing him inside for the night. She can hear Mike in the kitchen unpacking the dishwasher and she feels alarmingly content. She's returned from work twice this week to find Kurt shutting down his gear and preparing to go back to Dave's apartment before making him have a cup of coffee with her. She saw him last night at dinner, and again this morning when he dragged her out to try on wedding dresses.

She knows it's selfish, but she really wants him and Dave to work out. Kurt has become his old self again, and it makes her wonder what else has been going on in his relationship with Alex that she never knew about. It's not entirely selfish, she wants Kurt to be happy. Dave makes Kurt happy, and he's in Chicago. She's still worried about how the relationship is going to progress. Kurt seems to have slipped into it easily, but she'd expected a freak out before that happened. It might still come. She doesn't know. Kurt has become more balanced, which can only be a good thing.

She knows Dave's past. Maybe more than Kurt does, they haven't discussed it. Mike has told her everything. She pieces it together like a patchwork quilt, talking about what she remembers of Dave in high school. The bully he was and how there was a snap change coming in the form of Santana which had been seven types of suspicious. It all makes sense now of course, looking back. It's almost amusing. She feels Mike come to stand behind her and leans back against him.

"Do you think it says anything about us that our best friends are gay white men?"

"What, other than that we're perfect for each other?"

Mercedes laughs and snuggles into his side. She'll leave Kurt to deal with his own relationship and will only step in if she thinks he's being stupid. She's pretty sure she won't need to.

* * *

Two weeks in LA fly by. Because he's keeping aside the technical work to do in Chicago the more fiddly and physical parts of the job are being crammed in while he's physically in LA. He gets a pressure blister from the scissors cutting fabric and Dave makes crude jokes about it being because it's the hand he jerks off with, rather than giving him sympathy. It makes him laugh though. Cassie drags him out to go salsa dancing on the Saturday night, all the while complaining that she doesn't get to see him as much with all the time he spends in Chicago.

He has dinner with Carson and Brett and almost chokes on his wine when Brett asks whether Cassie would be interested in a date. He calls her immediately, Brett's eyes comically wide when he asks ' _hypothetically if a guy wanted your number to ask you out, should I give it to him?'_  After she'd finished laughing and Kurt had informed her he was actually serious she'd replied with a ' _fuck, sure, why the hell not_ '. He leaves LA with Cassie and Brett set up on a date, both of them freaking out to him on several different occasions.

He's hired a car this time, his flight arriving while Dave is teaching a children's karate class on a Saturday morning. It suits him, because it means he'll have his own transport. He'd thought parking was going to be difficult, but Dave's talked to the parking co-ordinator and arranged for him to have a temporary park in the apartment building. It's convenient, everything slotting in to place. Easy.

As he drives from the airport he's fairly confident he can find the way to Mercedes' place. He's going there first, dropping of his work gear and having lunch with her before going to Dave's. He's delaying. Greg arrived from Toronto last night, is now staying for the entire week. Dave had sounded quite put out, and Kurt's pretty sure they're equally sullen that their time together is going to be intruded upon. By one of his ex's no less. Dave can apparently be too nice for his own good.

* * *

He fishes his keys out of his pocket, and they never fail to bring a smile to his face. He knows Dave is home and he could just knock, but there is something in opening the door to his apartment for the first time after flying in. He pushes the door open with his foot, dragging his suitcase behind him. As the door closes behind him he looks up into one of the most handsome faces he's seen in a while.

"Hi, you must be Kurt…Greg."

"I. Yeah. Hi." He shakes the offered hand in a bit of a daze. He recognises Greg from somewhere, and it's disconcerting and annoying in the frustrating way of thinking you have forgotten something but can't remember what.

"Here, let me help you with that. Flying is so tiring huh?"

"Thanks…" Watching as Greg takes his larger suitcase by the handle and sets off for Dave's bedroom.

"Hey," Dave greets when Kurt passes him. A warm hand snakes around him and pulls him close for a tight embrace, garment bag and all followed by a kiss that is nowhere near enough after two weeks.

"Hey." Feels suddenly breathless as he grins up at sparkling amused eyes.

"Later. He's going out. At least he has that much decency."

"I think I like him already."

* * *

Dave can tell that Kurt didn't  _want_  to like Greg, but the more they talk the more he can tell Kurt is actually starting to like him. He can't help but feel a little relieved. Like Keegan, Greg is important to him, and he wants Kurt to know them. He doesn't expect Kurt to like everyone, or get on with them, but he does want him to know them. Know why he's friends with them. Know why they're important to him. In works in reverse as well, with Keegan getting to know Kurt and smiling slyly at him when he turns up late for training when Kurt is in town.

He's grateful that Mike and Kurt met on an even playing field, because it allowed them both to formulate their own opinions without worrying about what he wanted. That they get on so well means more to him than he ever thought. Neither Rowan or Greg really got on with Mike, were always slightly reserved around him. He knows he treasures all his relationships, even once they are over. They've all helped shape him.

* * *

Dave comes back from work on Monday evening and Kurt can feel the tension and pain rolling off him. Even though he doesn't want to he glances at Greg, who has also noticed. It irks him slightly that this man can read Dave still so easily, although he quickly realises that Dave is pretty easy to read by anyone that cares for him, Dave doesn't hide anything of himself now.

"I need to go for a run…and then beat the shit out of a boxing bag."

"Sure. I'm coming with you," Kurt states, and Dave doesn't even try to argue, so he knows it's bad. Dave has disappeared up the hallway and as he goes to follow Greg grips his arm firmly as he walks past.

"He probably just lost one of his kids. Just…warning you."

Kurt nods sharply but his stomach roils and heaves at just the thought of what Dave has possibly seen and done today. He knows Dave makes a conscious effort to not bring his work home with him, so when he does it must always be really bad if the expression on Greg's face is anything to go by.

He steps into the bedroom and all of Dave's movements are sharp and jerky, pulling out clothes and getting changed without looking up. He moves fast, knowing he'll get left behind if he isn't ready the second Dave walks out the door. He follows Dave in silence, raises a hand to wave at Greg and shuts the door. He half expects Dave to head outside, to go running in the thirty degree weather and is relieved when he heads for the indoor gym of the building.

He has never seen Dave workout like this before, it's almost violent in its intensity, like he is being chased, and he has no idea how long he's been crying before he notices tears running down his face with the sweat. Dave just keeps wiping his face with the towel, and he figures this has to be a coping mechanism, what he needs to do to work through whatever has happened. He's stopped running himself, exhausted, ready to drop into bed immediately and he wonders if that's part of it, making himself so physically drained that he will fall asleep instantly, not lie there awake reliving and sorting through his day in his mind.

He watches as Dave rhythmically punches the bag, the regular thumping sounds are quite soothing, but Dave hasn't stopped crying. Silent tears though. Angry tears. And Kurt's not sure if he's angry at himself for being unable to stop whatever has happened, or just wants to take the law into his own hands and go out and commit murder and this is stopping him. When he eventually drops to his knees, still quiet but clearly drained and finished there's nothing he can do except hold him and be glad that he's here and not in LA.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty angsty. There is oblique reference to child abuse. The next chapter will be delayed. This was going to be longer, but I decided not to leave it on a cliff hanger.
> 
> In case you were ever in any doubt, I don't own Glee.

**CHAPTER NINETEEN – MARCH 2026 (part two)**

Dave takes the following day off work, knows his boss doesn't expect either him or Karen in today. He rings Jen and asks if he can have the kids for the day and she agrees, arranging for a car swap so he doesn't have to move around the car seats and just go and pick them up from day-care. He needs to spend the day with his nephews, with kids who are loved and don't know any different.

He's left Kurt at his apartment on purpose. He just needs some time alone, to process his thoughts and consider everything that has happened over the last three days. He didn't sleep well last night. Better than if he'd been alone, but still not great. He's pretty sure Kurt didn't get much sleep either, not with him tossing and turning all night. He hadn't said anything though, simply reached out a hand and touched him. Held him. He'd slept then, only waking when Kurt moved away in his sleep. He's grateful that Kurt just seems to understand. Doesn't ask questions. Is just there. Quietly supportive.

* * *

Dave's told him he'll be gone an hour, which seems like a long time just to pick up two kids, but Dave must have seen the incredulous look on his face, because he'd explained the necessity of exchanging cars with Jen, then driving to the day-care, signing the kids out before driving back. He knew Dave needed time to himself, Dave has become as easy to read to him as a highway sign. Except everyone can apparently read the same highway sign, and he finds it a little irritating when Greg had said ' _he just needs some time to_ himself'. He'd swallowed back a dozen or so snarky and sarcastic replies, instead going with a simple nod and gentle ' _I know._ '

He's taken the day off. As he'd discovered back in August he's more productive here due to the lack of distractions. Yesterday at Mercedes' he'd completed all the work he'd planned for the day by two in the afternoon, and he'd had an hour long lunch break and taken Theo for a walk. So he feels no guilt at spending the day with Dave. And Greg. Greg who is sitting at the opposite end of the couch, camera in hand like it is an extension of him, and he's watching Kurt, which is unnerving. He still can't place the face and it's been bugging him for three days now. He's usually good with faces and names, and he  _knows_  he's seen Greg's face somewhere. It's something he can focus on right now, instead of the bleakness in Dave's eyes and feeling utterly fucking useless.

He's not as tall as Kurt, but only by about an inch. His hair is black, but Kurt's would put money on it being bottle enhanced, particularly with the almost blue-purple undertone he catches in particular light. His skin is pale, but it's simply winter-white, skin that will easily tan in summer if Greg is so inclined. Unlike his own burn-blister-peel routine he gets going whenever he steps out into the sun without sunblock.

He has green eyes, which he knows are real, because he works in Hollywood and has gotten good at spotting contact lenses. He has no comparison, but he'd also put money on Greg having had a nose job. Either that or he's just naturally fucking handsome. He's used to good looking men, works with a lot of them, and Greg could easily be one of them. Maybe that's it. Maybe Greg used to act.

"You know, your face is really familiar," Kurt states, and Greg smiles this odd half-smile which makes him look even more familiar and he can't get over how annoying it is.

"People say that to me all the time. I just must have one of those faces you know?"

Kurt raises a sceptical eyebrow, because another thing he can do courtesy of his workplace is spot bullshit, but he's too polite to call Greg out on it. He'll figure it out. And if all else ails he can ask Dave. If the timing is right. He picks up his tablet, deciding to catch up on his e-mails and the daily news while he waits for Dave to return, and attempt to ignore Greg staring at him. He's not even trying to be subtle about it and it's starting to bother him more than the fact he can't place his face.

"Either I have something on my face, or you're trying to unnerve me. Which is it?"

"Neither. You're quite good looking. I can see why Dave likes you."

Kurt blinks. He's not sure whether to be more insulted for himself, or for Dave.

"I'd like to think Dave sees more than just my looks. He's not shallow."

"Of course not. I think he's the least shallow guy I know. It's very refreshing to not be judged on your looks. It's not what I meant when I said I can see why Dave likes you."

Kurt doesn't know what to say. He works in LA. In the movie industry. Where appearances are one of the most important aspects of any actor's livelihood, sometimes trumping the actual ability to act. He's always paid attention to looks, needs to for his job, but it stopped being important to him years ago. Knows that looks are only one part of a person, the least important part, and good looks can hides the most poisonous of personalities.

"Did Dave ever tell you it took two months before he even agreed to go on a date with me? He thought I was joking. For two months. I've never had to work so hard to get a guy to agree to just a date…"

 _I bet you haven't_  Kurt thinks, and feels incredibly catty, even though he knows Greg is just being matter-of-fact. He can understand where he is coming from, because he was the same. He has never had to work too hard either, and he can't help but feel slightly smug that Dave has never turned him down.

"Dave's self esteem is pretty shitty sometimes. Some guy did a number back on him ages ago, told him he wasn't going to amount to anything. Sometimes I think he's forever trying to prove them wrong."

Kurt frowns he can't imagine Keegan ever telling Dave something like that, although he'd be the first to admit to people changing. He wants to ask more but the buzzer sounds. Without even looking at Greg he stands, moving to the intercom and pressing the video-view. Mike. Surprising. He greets him and buzzes him in, opening and waiting by the front door for him.

"Hey Mike. What are you doing here?"

"I heard what happened…so I took the day off. He here?"

"Uh…no. He's gone to pick up Kadin and Kruze. He should be back shortly. Come in and join us."

"Us?"

"Yeah. Greg's here as well."

"Oh. Right. Okay. Uh…how's Dave holding up?"

"Well, I'm not sure how this normally goes, but he beat the punching bag to within an inch of its life last night. And that was after running until I pretty much collapsed."

"Yeah, sounds about right. He'll do the same thing tonight at training. It's just his way of coping."

"I had gathered that much. And Greg told me that Dave had likely lost one of his kids…"

Mike nods, and without prompting begins to fill him in. He has to bite his lip to stop himself from crying. Mike's words are clinical, detached, but informative. The child, a three year old, died on Saturday. Wasn't taken to the hospital until Sunday. An autopsy yesterday revealed a sickening number of facts which Mike doesn't give details about, simply says ' _it was bad_ ' and Kurt nods sharply. He doesn't need to elaborate, because the look on his face tells Kurt more than enough. It horrifies him, and then Mike breaks him. ' _Dave was with the foster parents when they had to identify the body.'_  It explains so much, and he knows why Dave puts himself through it all, he just wishes he didn't have to.

* * *

Dave spends the rest of the day playing. Kruze demands rides around on his back, so he finds himself crawling around on his hands and knees, his nephews arguing over whose turn it is. He catches Kurt's amused looks, fairly certain that any other time and frame of mind, they'd be making innuendos that would completely fly over the kids' heads. Greg is taking photos, smiling in the intent way he does when he's trying to capture something in a single shot.

Mike is in the kitchen, making sandwiches for the kids and tossing together a pasta dish for the four of them. He's glad they're all here. He's not used to it, last time only Mike was with him and they got spectacularly drunk on whiskey. This feels almost like a little impromptu party, and Kurt has turned into just a big a kid as himself, eyes lighting up when he'd brought out the toy boxes he keeps in the kids' room.

He likes that Kurt doesn't try too hard to impress them, simply set about making a car out of blocks and waited for the boys to approach him. He knows theoretically that Kurt has a nephew the same age as Kadin, but he's never seen him properly interact with kids before, and after ten minutes of initial hesitance on the boys' behalf they'd been all over him and Kurt had let them. Seeing them like this, his family and Kurt, is uplifting, and exactly what he needs.

Then he hears the click of Greg's camera and gives him the finger.

* * *

It's not summer. They can't sit at the side of the field and watch training in comfort. Instead he finds himself in a nearby coffee shop with Mercedes. And Greg. They haven't exactly hit it off, and he's given up trying to act as peace keeper. He'd forgotten just how vicious and defensive Mercedes can be if she thinks she's being attacked. He knows Greg meant the compliment, trying to convince her is another matter all together. They're bickering, trading insults, and Greg can apparently give as good as he gets, and any other time he'd just sit back and be amused, but right now he can't hear it. Wants peace and calm.

"Can you both just shut  _up?_  Please? Talk about the fucking weather or something."

He wants to rest his head on the table. Or bang it on the table. He's undecided. He can feel them both looking, but he determinedly stares at the painting on the wall, ignoring them until Mercedes makes a pithy comment about the fact that it isn't raining. Greg agrees and he relaxes, turning to look at him. They both look far too amused for their own good and he realises his mistake. Allowing them to bond over their mutual amusement of him. He scowls.

"Don't do that, you'll get wrinkles," Mercedes says, and Greg snorts and then quickly starts coughing. Kurt glares at both of them.

"I  _don't_  have wrinkles. Anyway, why don't we talk about something nice, like your wedding."

He's said the right thing, because it prompts Greg into asking to see the ring, and suddenly they're talking about photography, and he's recommending a friend. Kurt's amused. He's not usually invested in weddings. Only when they involve people he loves does he actually care enough to pay attention to all the small details. Like his Dad. Or Finn. Or Mercedes. He's know talking about a boutique winery in the south of France which has a cottage that would make a great honeymoon destination.

He hides a grin as Mercedes' eyes bug out of her head. He knows she hasn't considered honeymooning overseas, despite his obviously far too subtle hints that maybe her and Mike could go to Scotland and see where he grew up. She instantly throws up the cost as a barrier and Greg is shaking his head, saying it would be free, they could consider it a wedding gift. Kurt has to bite back laughter, because he knows Greg isn't even on the guest list. Then he offers to be the photographer, saying that while he's not a professional wedding photographer, he's sure he could manage shots she'd be happy with.

Mercedes looks like she's been hit by a train, but Kurt knows what Greg is capable of artistically, and if Mercedes wants to go to France for her honeymoon then getting a photographer for free will ease up money to go towards airfares. He nods and accepts Greg's offer, telling him they can go over possible locations for photos. Mercedes is looking slightly mutinous, but he knows he can talk her round easily enough.

* * *

All things considered it's been a better day than he could have hoped for. Jen had come and picked the kids up when she had finished work, looking tired and drained. She'd assured him it was just her pregnancy tiring her out, but he's seen her go through two pregnancies before, and she'd never looked this bad before. He knows better than to say anything to her though, because he's not stupid; telling a woman she looks like shit is not a way to endear them to you. She'd been more concerned about him, and he knows Karen probably called her. Or Mike. He knows someone did, because she wouldn't have let him ruin the boys routine so readily otherwise. She'd hugged him tightly when she left and he knows he has the best family and friends possible.

Training had gone well, he'd been pushed physically, knows he will sleep well tonight. Dinner with the team afterwards is going well, Greg being welcomed back, asked about his brother. He can tell Kurt and Greg are becoming friends, not close friends, but enough that they can clearly hold a conversation between them for an extended period of time. It hits him then that they might be talking about him, and he's tempted to shuffle back to his seat so that he can hear what they're saying but he's stopped by a hand on his arm. Mercedes.

"Hey, how're you?"

"I think I should be asking you that, but I'm good. Greg is nice. You have good taste in men."

"So do you," Dave replies with a grin, and it feels good to be joking, like he can pretend just for a little while.

"Yes, I do. Mike's pretty fantastic, I have to agree." She pauses, eyes flicking to Kurt and back to him. "I like Kurt being here. It's nice seeing him so regularly."

"Yeah. We're lucky he can work remotely and that he has your place to work from." He knows he should feel lucky, that one or two weeks a month should be enough, but he's greedy, he wants more. "Yeah, Kurt's pretty much the one calling all the shots," he admits, and Mercedes doesn't look surprised.

"That's what worries me. Don't let him call  _all_  the shots okay? He needs someone who will stand up to him just as much as he needs someone to stand by him."

He nods. He knows what she means.

"Anyway, this isn't why I wanted to talk to you. I have a…question."

The way she says it and glances nervously at Kurt immediately makes him tense. He can't think of anything that she could ask that would be bad, especially given what a staunch supporter she's been of them both so far. She's chewing her lip nervously, the freshly applied lipstick being nibbled away.

"Shoot."

"Can I bring a friend to dinner on Saturday? He's more a friend of Kurt's, but he's coming to Chicago to surprise him, spend some time with him before he leaves for London…"

"Blaine."

"Yes."

He sighs. Reminds himself he is no longer an irrational teenager. It would be completely hypocritical to be upset about Kurt spending time with Blaine when his own ex is a fucking house guest for the week.

"Of course, bring him to dinner. I always have the spare chair for this type of reason. When does he arrive?"

"Tomorrow night. He's staying at my place and was just going to be there Thursday morning when Kurt turned up to work…"

"Except now he wants to come to a funeral with me…His work plans are completely shot to hell this week…"

"He'll live. He's a big boy. I think being there for you is more important to him this week."

He sighs again, and he knows she's right, but it doesn't stop the guilt creeping in.

"If you can drop Blaine off at my apartment before eight on Thursday I'll arrange breakfast for them, so they can catch up."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it'll keep me busy."

"Okay, if you change your mind though you let me know okay?"

"Sure thing."

* * *

Dave's return to work the next day is subdued. Everyone in the precinct knows, the atmosphere is predatory, and he knows that while he's no longer involved in the actual police work, the officers who are will ensure they tie this case closed with a tidy ribbon to present to a judge or jury. They will hunt, and they are out for blood.

Karen is already at her desk and she's holding a photo in her hand. He doesn't need to look to know and he watches in silence as she gets up and sticks it to the wall with dozens of others; photos of children they have saved and lost. They have saved far more, and that's what he needs to remind himself of, everyday. He knows the work he does is valuable, some of the kids he's helped still sending him letters and photos, all which help him make it through the weeks like this.

There's a knock at their office door and the Captains' assistant is standing there, and Dave knows they're being called into his office.

"When you have a moment Dave, the Captain would like to see you."

He nods and turns to Karen as the assistant walks away.

"I already saw him this morning. He caught me as I came through the doors. Our psych appointments have been moved to next week."

He's not surprised by that. If it hadn't been moved for him he would have moved it. He needs to talk, offload his guilt, talk through the case, and while he knows Kurt would listen, he doesn't want Kurt knowing the details. Wants, selfishly, to have this ugly part of his work kept separate, not to protect Kurt, because he's more than strong enough to take it, but he shouldn't have to.

He knocks on the glass door and is waved in by his Captain, a man in his mid-fifties who has always reminded his of Coach Tanaka, except competent.

"You wanted to see me sir?"

"Yes. I just wanted to express my condolences. I know it's all lip service, but if you need to talk, I'm here. I said the same thing to Karen. You need time off, you got it. You two always get hit hard when this type of shit happens."

"It's been a difficult case sir."

"Mmm. I know. We'll get them though."

"I know we will sir. I can't afford to think otherwise."

"Good. Well, there was another reason I wanted to see you. Was going to give this to you on Monday to look through, but in the light of everything that has happened you're getting it now. Just…take your time and look through it. I know you've never shown any interested before, but I mentioned it in passing to Karen earlier, and she said you might actually be interested this time, so, give it a look through. Let me know what you think. It's a draft, so everything is open to change or negotiation. No rush."

Dave accepts an official CPD folder, curious as to the contents, but knows that today is not the day. He and Karen have a report to write, interviews to do, and prepare mentally for the funeral tomorrow.

* * *

"You never made  _me_  this type of breakfast…" Greg states, and Dave can almost  _hear_  the pout, and sure enough when he turns around Greg is standing there, pouting, sleep pants slung low on his hips and t-shirt so old it has holes in it. In fact, he's pretty sure it's one of his old ones.  _Not_  a fact he'll be pointing out to Kurt.

"Yeah well, it's not actually for Kurt either. He generally just eats fruit for breakfast. His friend Blaine is turning up, I said I'd make breakfast so the can eat and catch up…"

"What?"

Dave looks up, and Kurt is standing there, already showered and dressed, but just wearing his jeans and one of Dave's shirts. That makes three of his shirts in the kitchen. It's almost a hysterical thought, and he realises he's just ruined Blaine's surprise visit, unless…

"What did you say about Blaine turning up?"

Nope. No such luck that Kurt hadn't actually heard him. His eyes dart around the room, and he can't come up with a convincing lie. And he's useless at lying anyway, so he just shrugs.

"Blaine arrived last night. He wants to catch up with you before he moves, and this is closer than LA. It's meant to be a  _surprise_."

"I will act sufficiently surprised when he turns up. I'm still coming to the funeral though."

"Yeah, I figured you would. Hence my suggestion that he come for breakfast."

"What's he going to do all day?"

"Well, it's only for a couple of hours, and I'm sure Greg can keep him occupied."

Greg grins and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, Kurt rolls his eyes and then the buzzer sounds.

"I can't answer it, I'm meant to be getting surprised, remember?" Kurt states, and it's Dave's turn to roll his eyes. He motions with his head for Greg to go and let them in to the building and once he leaves the kitchen Kurt moves forward, arms wrapping around him, body pressed against the length of his and he leans back into him.

"I know it's completely inappropriate timing, but you're really hot when you're cooking."

"I cook all the time…"

"I know."

Dave laughs, stealing an awkward side-angled kiss before going back to the food. Greg re-enters the kitchen and Kurt pulls away from him, pouring himself a glass of juice. There's a knock on the door and Greg turns to Kurt.

"Your turn."

* * *

Kurt represses another eye roll and walks to the front door, trying to practise his 'surprised!' face. He opens it and sure enough Blaine is standing there, grinning broadly and Kurt doesn't even try to act surprised, suddenly just glad to see his friend. He wraps his arms around him and hugs, grins into his neck.

"He told you didn't he…"

"No. He was telling Greg and I overheard."

"Overheard or eavesdropping?"

"I never eavesdrop!"

"Kurt, you're one of the nosiest people I know. Just own it…"

"I wasn't. I was just walking into the kitchen and heard your name…anyway, come in. Sorry. It's good to see you." He takes Blaine's jacket and hangs it up.

"It's good to see you too. Chicago obviously agrees with you."

"Yeah. I'm starting to feel less like a visitor and more like a local. Helps that Mercedes is here as well."

"I suppose it does. Right, lead me to breakfast. If it tastes as good as it smells…"

"It does. From the looks of it Dave's made something of everything, not sure what you like…"

"Why didn't he just ask you?"

"Because it  _was_  meant to be a surprise. Anyway, Blaine, you know Dave, and this is Greg, he's staying for the week. He's based in London actually. Blaine's moving there in a couple of months…" he stops talking, suddenly taking in Blaine's suddenly paler face, slack-jawed expression and slightly-glazed eyes.

"Blaine? Are you okay?"

"You're Greg Peterson, the underwear model…I used to walk under you twice a day to and from work…"

" _That's_  where I recognise you from!" He doesn't add that that monster sized poster featured in so many of Blaine's fantasies. He has to bite his tongue from saying anything. Or laughing.

"Uh, yeah. That was a while ago. My name's actually Greg Browne."

Greg doesn't look overly pleased at being recognised, although Kurt's not sure why, it's not like he was in a porn film. Blaine is trying to act cool, but is failing miserably in Kurt's eyes, whereas Greg just looks awkward. Embarrassed and uncomfortable. Maybe leaving them together isn't such a good idea.

"Come on, foods up. Take a plate to the table."

Breakfast passes uneventfully, with Greg relaxing once Dave and Kurt start talking, and Kurt just wishes Blaine would stop with the excited eyebrow waggle. He works with Broadway stars, he shouldn't be acting like a sex-starved… huh. That's probably the problem.

He lets out a long sigh, feels Dave's hand stroke his thigh, eyes concerned. He shakes his head, smiling softly. Greg is cold and stand-offish when Blaine tries to engage him in conversation, particularly about London, but he's polite enough. Blaine doesn't seem to notice, not having a comparison, but Kurt knows Greg well enough, even after just five days, that he doesn't like Blaine overly much. Ah well, can't win them all. He likes Greg, and he knows Dave will tolerate Blaine, even just for his sake, but having Greg and Blaine like each other might prove to be a pipe dream.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last "proper" chapter (never sure if I should include he epilogue as a chapter?) Thanks for your reviews, alerts, favourites, understanding and encouragement. Thank you for putting up with my spelling, typos and confusion between bought and brought (I do know the difference, I just don't type it!) I re-read this, and spotted so many errors, so thanks for being patient with me as I started out as a completely new writer.
> 
> There was quite a lot of Blaine/Greg interaction which I ended cutting out completely, so this is shorter than it was, there was one bit which is kind of key, so if you have time, go and read "Edible Flowers" first – it's only 600 words, but you won't be confused like Kurt.
> 
> Sorry again for the delay and thanks for your patience, particularly as many of you watched me update other fic like crazy while this one seemingly lay idle. It didn't, trust me, this chapter has undergone quite a few re-writes (like, five) and I am worried because so many people are invested in these characters now. I just don't want to disappoint anyone. Now that this is complete I'd love a review to let me know what you thought, tips on how I can improve (like buying a new keyboard that works), your favourite bit/s, etc.
> 
> Debraelq was key in this (the entire story) coming together, encouraged me when I first started out. There would be a lot less fic from me without her initial encouragement that I didn't completely suck.
> 
> Oh, and in case you were ever in any doubt, I don't own Glee.
> 
> TL:DR (Too long, didn't read): Thanks. A lot. So much.

 

**CHAPTER TWENTY – MARCH 2026 (part three)**

It's been a while since he's been to a funeral, and never to one where the coffin was so tiny. Dave has spent the service stoic, silent, eyes hard and unforgiving. He's recognised a couple of other people, Dave's workmates, and they have all looked similarly sombre. He supposes that this type of occasion allows for nothing else, and as the family trail out after the coffin and everyone gathers outside some of them come up to Dave, grip his arm, most of them murmuring ' _we'll get the bastards.'_  He doesn't know the details, doesn't know if he wants to, if his imagination is much worse than reality, or whether the reality of this would horrify him. He suspects it would, so he keeps quiet. The silence is broken by Dave's softly spoken words to him.

"Thanks for coming. I…just. Thanks."

"Anytime. What do you want to do now?" He has no idea as to what Dave might want to do now, whether he wants to go to the family gathering or what the procedure is in this case.

"I need to go to work."

He's not surprised at that, so he simply nods, surreptitiously linking his fingers through Dave's and giving them a quick squeeze before allowing his hand to drop away again, arms still brushing slightly.

"Can you drop me off at Mercedes? I'll get some work done before spending the rest of the afternoon with Blaine."

He feels bad that just for a moment he considers Blaine as second-best. Blaine, while sometimes annoying, is still one of his oldest friends. And while he's only planning on spending time with Blaine because Dave will be at work, he needs to appreciate the fact that Blaine has come here to spend time with him. Not with Greg, who hasn't exactly warmed toward him.

"I don't think Greg likes him very much," he muses.

"Who? Blaine?" Dave snorts softly. "Greg can be too sensitive for his own good. Blaine'll grow on him. Like a fungus. "

He takes it as a good sign that Dave's joking, even if his smile is small and hardly reaches his eyes.

* * *

There's a quiet sense of urgency in the station, everyone working, none of the usual joking banter that's an almost daily occurrence. It's been like this all week, ever since they received the news on Monday afternoon. He's been there for over two hours, a sandwich Karen bought him eaten at his desk, when the Captain sticks his head around the door after knocking sharply.

"Dave, had a chance to look at that proposal I gave you?"

"No sir, not yet..."

He's completely forgotten about the folder, and he's pretty certain it's already buried under the pile of paperwork to his left. He'll have to dig it out and take it home to read it, not something he likes doing, but there's always a flurry of extra paperwork and appointments after a death. People are suddenly more vigilant, more possible cases of child abuse are reported and he and Karen are rushed off their feet. It's good in a way, because it keeps them busy, but that so many of the reports actually lead somewhere is depressing on an entirely different level.

"No rush, just curious as to what you made of it. I'll let you get back to work."

* * *

Kurt returns to Dave's apartment to find Blaine and Greg sitting in silence. He holds back a sigh of exasperation and roll of eyes. They don't like each other, but he'd thought that maybe they'd be able to be mature enough to actually be polite and friendly towards one another. Apparently not. And he has no idea who is more to blame, but suspects it's been a vicious circle that has spiralled out of control. He pretends like there's nothing out of the ordinary and smiles at them both, removing his jacket and falling into one of the soft squishy armchairs.

He's equal parts exhausted and jittery, the tension between the other two in the room isn't helping. He can't decide what he wants to do, doesn't want to make a decision. He doesn't have time to think before Blaine is launching himself up into a standing position, suddenly full of energy and looking eager to go out.

"Come on. You've got to show me the highlights of Chicago."

He heaves his body out of the chair, and smiles at a relieved looking Greg. He knows the answer, but asks anyway.

"Sure. Greg, do you want to come with us?"

"I'm good. Think I'll go and have a decadent afternoon nap or read a book or something…you two have fun."

He rises and Kurt bites his lip to hide his amusement at Blaine's clear admiration of Greg's body. Blaine has always been quick to admire, and he isn't discriminatory, he admires pretty much everyone, for all different reasons, male, female, all races, always informing Kurt that beauty is everywhere, and sounding incredibly corny while doing so. Although from the slight drawdown of Greg's brows he'd put money on the other man being less than appreciative of Blaine's attention. He disappears down the hallway to the guestroom and he turns to Blaine.

"So, what do you want to do?"

"Dessert. I  _really_  need some sugar."

"Okay then…" Kurt replies, and even after all this time he's not sure if he'll ever get used to some of Blaine's weirder moods.

* * *

He's got the name of a place that does good desserts from Dave and finds a park relatively easily, although it's taken him a while to find the place, despite his GPS and Dave's directions. Blaine has been silent almost the entire time, which is completely unlike him. He suspects it's Greg related, but he doesn't know if he can handle a Blaine level-of-drama right now, already feeling emotionally drained from the entire week. However he knows he'll give in to his curiosity and ask within minutes of being seated.

He's asked within three.

"It's nothing. Just…Greg. Nothing. It was nothing. Just a disagreement."

"You two actually spoke enough to disagree about something?"

Blaine raises an eyebrow and Kurt knows if he were younger (or drunk) he'd be poking his tongue out. Instead he knows he's about to be wound up. Or teased. Or both. It's refreshing actually, maybe exactly what he needs.

"Well, we have one area of common interest. The fact that our exs are dating. But let's just say we had to agree to disagree and leave it at that."

"Oh no. You can't say that and just leave it… that's tantamount to cruelty you know. Especially for me. Unless you were discussing our past sex life, then I don't want to know."

"Huh. Well no. We didn't discuss sex. But I'm sure we could have disagreed about that too."

"What did you disagree about then?"

"Happiness. He has some funny ideas about being happy and not being responsible for another person's happiness. And long distance relationships. And…I disagreed. On pretty much every aspect. He's pretty defensive." Blaine shrugs, but he's looking thoughtful. He knows that isn't the end of it.

"What does Greg think then?"

"That long distance relationships are always doomed. That someone always has to sacrifice their own happiness and compromise, and that will drive them apart in the end anyway."

He opens his mouth to rebut that statement and snaps it shut again.

"What do you think?"

"I think that if two people want to be with one another then they'll be together and a little factor of geography won't stop them."

"That's incredibly optimistic. Not to mention simplistic."

Blaine snorts.

"You sound like him. He pretty much said the same thing. Don't you think that you and Dave want it bad enough?"

"I…we want to be together. But his life is here. His family. Friends. He could never leave Chicago. I'd never ask him to. We'll manage with the time we can have together. I know it's early days, but it's working well so far."

"Yeah, that's what I said. Greg…well, he's wrong."

"He's entitled to his opinion. Even when it clearly opposes yours."

Blaine huffs and Kurt hides a grin in his menu.

"LA is a lot closer than London anyway. I think he's just sour that Dave and him couldn't do long distance…"

"I…don't know where to go with that. I don't think anything is that simple. And it's none of your business anyway."

"It's yours. You're going out with Dave."

"I am. And I don't care about all the reasons why Dave and Greg are no longer together, but I'm sure it's not as simple as Greg moved away…"  _Liar liar_. He bites his lip, and Blaine is looking at him as if he doesn't believe a word he's saying either. "Oh shut up. I know him moving away played a big part, but just because that was the driving force doesn't mean they would still be together now if Greg still lived here."

"Mmm. You're going to ask Dave about it tonight aren't you…"

" _Shut up_  Blaine."

* * *

Dave's amused, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut. Kurt and Blaine are both singing out loud, drowning out the radio. They'd apparently gotten stuck into the ' _special'_  coffees, which are all half-alcohol, and they've both had several each. Along with three desserts each rather than having dinner, which are also alcoholic in nature. He knows Kurt is going to crash down from this self-inflicted sugar high and alcoholic buzz, and is grateful that at least Blaine won't be his problem tomorrow. Or even later tonight. He pulls up outside Mercedes' and turns off the car, turning towards the other two men, who haven't even noticed that their accompanying music has been shut off. He waits out the song, because even drunk they have nice voices.

"So…first stop for the evening. Blaine. Your bed awaits…"

"Mmm. Pity it's empty."

Kurt starts giggling then and Dave's filled with horrified curiosity about what the hell they've been talking about all night. Fuck he hopes it's not been him. He's never talked about sex with his best friend. Mike's just not an appreciative audience, which suits him fine. Keegan would probably jerk off thinking about it later. And as much as it terrifies him to think about it, Karen probably would too. He just hadn't thought that Kurt would talk to Blaine about his sex life. He's not sure how he feels about it.

Blaine finally gets the safety belt unfastened and gets out of the car, weaving up the garden path and Dave watches as the door opens and Mercedes waves. He doesn't think she can see them, but he waves back anyway. Kurt's hand has reached for his thigh and he reaches over and places it back on his own thigh. He doesn't need that type of distraction when he still needs to drive home. He watches the front door close and starts the car back up again, and a quick glance to his right proves that Kurt is staring at him intently.

"I love you…quite a lot you know."

"I love you too. Now keep your hands to yourself, I need to drive," Dave states, feeling ridiculously adult and responsible as he removes Kurt's hand from his crotch.

"Spoilsport. He's obsessed you know… Seriously obsessed. He's probably going to jerk off thinking about him…"

"Huh? Who?"

"Blaine. Greg."

"I…okay. Really? That's kind of…incestuous if I think about it too much."

"Pfft. It's kind of hot is what it is. He was Blaine's fantasy material, and now he's seen the real thing in the flesh and he  _won't shut up_ about him. I feel bad for him."

"Who? Blaine?"

" _No_. Greg."

Dave's a bit lost, not sure if this conversation is actually going anywhere, and despite the day he's had Kurt's slightly inane ramblings are light-hearted and distracting, and the hand he's sneaked back to his thigh, just resting, is a warm steady presence.

"Maybe Blaine a little bit as well."

"Why both of them?" Dave asks, solely because keeping Kurt talking will make the trip back to his apartment so much faster.

"Greg, because Blaine is like a lecherous puppy when he looks at him. Blaine because when Greg looks at him he's like a horrified virgin who has just been told of the desires of the flesh or something…"

Dave can't hold back his laughter; he hasn't seen any evidence of what Kurt is talking about, but he can just imagine the looks on their faces, just the way Kurt has described them.

"What else have you noticed?"

"That they can't act like mature adults. They had a fight and were both  _sulking_."

"This from the guy who just had three desserts for dinner. Yeah. You're the epitome of mature."

"Ugh. Don't remind me. At least I didn't  _argue_  with the dessert. I'm going to have to run for like five hours tomorrow. I hate running."

"Wait, did Blaine argue with his dessert?"

"Well, he kept on comparing the desserts and talking about how there's always room for more dessert. I'm pretty sure he complimented them as well… I think there's something wrong with him. I didn't know what he was talking about…"

"So pretty much like me now…"

"What?"

"Not knowing what you're talking about."

"Oh. Yes. I suppose."

"You know, if you hate running so much you could always come swimming with me instead…"

"As much as I hate to pass up the opportunity to see you in just your swimsuit I will have to decline. The chlorine ruins my hair. If Greg still lived here do you think you'd still be with him?"

"I…what does that have to do with swimming?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"I – you know, don't worry about it." He can't keep up with how fast Kurt flicks from one subject to another and can only conclude that his brain must be a fascinating place.

"You're odd when I'm…not sober."

"Well, at least you got that statement right," Dave mutters, and he's grinning as he turns his car into his apartment building parking lot. He can tell that Kurt is coming down from his combined sugar-alcohol induced high and he pulls into his assigned parking space and turns the car off again.

"You didn't answer my question…"

"Which one? Oh… Greg? I don't really want to talk about him when you're doing  _that_  with your hand…" Kurt's hand immediately stops rubbing his cock and he lets his head hit the headrest with a soft thump. He turns to look at Kurt to find him watching with the same intense expression as before and he lets out a long sigh.

"I…don't know. I… no relationship is perfect. They all have ups and downs, and I think that me and Greg were having more downs than ups towards the end…it's what helped him make the decision to move to London. And why neither of us really wanted to try long distance. Still, it's always hard when a relationship ends. We struggled sometimes to make it work when we lived together. He's incredibly messy. Like you wouldn't believe."

"Really? I hadn't noticed…"

"That's because he's a guest. Guests are meant to be tidy. He leaves clothes lying around, shoes of death all over the place which I was always tripping over, food left on the bench…"

"Ah, the ultimate sin."

"He was good for me…for a lot of reasons. But he needs to live in a big city. Bigger than Chicago. London suits him. New York would as well I suppose, but too many reminders for him there I think."

"So, you think you would have broken up if he stayed…"

"I can't say for certain. But maybe. Probably. Him moving was a good reason for a nice clean break. He loves London."

"Mmm."

"Come on, let's get you to bed before you fall into a sugar induced coma."

* * *

He doesn't feel great the next morning. That much sugar in his system makes him feel sluggish. He knows Blaine will be bouncing off the walls all day, which is only going to make him feel worse when he eventually gets to Mercedes to do a few hours of work. Dave has already left, kissing him slowly and thoroughly with a cold mint-flavoured mouth over an hour ago. Maybe longer. He drags himself into the shower, letting the shower fill his mouth several times and rinsing it out. He dresses in basic jeans and shirt, definitely one of the perks of working in Chicago, he doesn't feel the need to wear a full suit. When he heads in to the kitchen Greg is eating chocolate frosting out of a container with a spoon and his stomach churns.

"Frosting? For breakfast?"

"I needed something chocolaty."

"Erg. You're as bad as Blaine. I feel sick just even thinking about eating that." He opens the fridge and pulls out the bottle of water and cut fruit that Dave has left for him. He could get used to this. When he looks up Greg looks pensive, slightly worried.

"Hmm. He can be a bit, uh, intense, can't he?"

"In regards to what exactly?" Kurt replies, and he's considering sculling back the entire bottle of water. Intense is an odd choice of words.

"Uh, me I suppose?"

"Hmm? Oh… well. I think he's a bit in awe of you."

Greg grunts and Kurt can tell he's not happy with the answer.

"It's not completely because of your looks. No. I'm lying. It is. But…he's not awestruck because you're slightly famous. He deals with famous people on a daily basis. He's in awe of your looks… I know it might sound completely shallow, but Blaine looks at beauty as a form of art. He really appreciates good looking people, both men and women. It's like someone going and staring at a painting, to admire the work, talent and skill that someone has put in to create it. Blaine admires beautiful people, but he finds something beautiful in everyone."

Greg studies the bench in silence for a while and he wonders whether that explanation has helped soften Greg towards Blaine somewhat. He doesn't need them to be friends, however it would be nice to have dinner tonight with Mike and Mercedes and not have to deal with the tension between the two of them.

"Look, I know he can be annoying and a bit self-centred, but if you could just… I don't know. Give him a chance? He's harmless. Honestly. Like a puppy. Just wants to please everyone."

"An annoying and self-centred puppy…"

"Or toddler. One that flirts. He kind of flirts with everyone. You need to be pretty confident when you're with him, that the flirting means nothing."

"If this is how you talk about one of your friends I'd hate to hear how you talk about someone you  _don't_  like."

"Hmm. Don't get me started on  _that_. Anyway, I have to go do some work and deal with a puppy hyped up on sugar. Would you believe he ate three desserts last night?" He fails to mention that he had three as well, that they'd pretty much split the dessert menu between them, sharing a piece of everything until Blaine had started getting territorial over the crème brûlée.

"Really? Interesting," Greg replies, his frosting filled spoon hovering half-way to his mouth and he can't tell if Greg actually finds that fact interesting, or whether he's slightly mocking his lack of conversational skills at this point in time.

"Right. I'll see you this afternoon."

* * *

He heads over to Mercedes. His aim is to work his arse off this morning so he can spend the rest of the day with Blaine. It was going to work well in theory, except he is ready to kill Blaine and convince Dave to help him hide the body. He's lying on the floor, stretched so his legs are resting against the wall, and as Kurt had thought, he's clicking a pen and tapping his foot against the wall in a steady thump-thump. It's infuriating, not to mention distracting.

"Blaine, I'm trying to work, can you please just…shut up for a moment?"

"I'm not even talking!"

"You're banging your foot against the wall, probably scuffing up Mercedes' wallpaper, and you're clicking that fucking pen. I'm working. I need to get this done."

"Hmpf. You're all grumpy."

"How about you take Theo for a walk. You'll burn off some of your energy."

"You know I don't like walking…"

"You don't like a lot of things, but it's either that or you end up not liking me screaming at you."

Blaine sighs and looks incredibly put out but he twists his body and lowers his legs to the floor. Kurt heaves a sigh of relief. He really needs to focus, the detail on the collar of a Victorian gown requiring all his attention, because this is his fourth and hopefully final draft.

"Fine. I know when I'm not wanted. Theo and I will go and make ourselves useful elsewhere."

"Yeah, you can go and chase some squirrels in the park."

"You know, I've always kind of wanted to do that…"

"Oh my god Blaine, just  _go_  already.  _Please_."

"Fine," Blaine huffs, and then there's blissful silence.

* * *

He's finished by the time Blaine gets back, which is a relief, because Blaine is literally bouncing and Theo is jumping around just as excitedly and he knows he won't be getting anymore work done today. He can deal with that, the entire weeks pretty much been a write-off, but he's ahead of himself anyway, a place he always tries to be due to experience teaching him it's the best way to allow for the unexpected changes that always seem to be thrust on him at the last moment. He packs everything up, leaving Mercedes office cleaner than when he moved in. It's working well, being able to come here and know he's here to work, and being able to see Mercedes on a regular basis makes him feel spoiled in a way that only time with a best friend can.

He gets everything into the car and drags Blaine from the backyard where he's throwing a Frisbee, directing him to grab a change of clothes for going out tonight. Dinner plans out, because Dave is doing his whole dinner party thing tomorrow night, and Kurt is looking forward to seeing Santana again, along with a few of Dave's other friends, especially now that he feels more secure in their relationship.

* * *

There's movement on the case, evidence the other officers have been collecting and compiling for months finally coming together. Results, including the autopsy, his and Karen's report and the warrant for arrest is issued. It's too late to save a life, but he knows it's a watertight case, he's poured over the evidence files with Adam and he's seen scumbags go to prison based on less conclusive material. His heart clenches, knowing that if they had been one week earlier…

He knows it's a vicious thought cycle to get into so turns his mind to other things. He has other cases, other kids to see, lives he can still affect for the better. He needs to focus on that. He's glad that he's made it to the end of the week fairly intact, and knows Kurt's presence has helped, along with Greg's and Mike's. He's looking forward to tonight and the weekend, knowing it's going to be social and it will be a complete change of his pace from his work week. He can't wait.

* * *

Kurt's confused. He's fairly certain that Greg and Blaine are somehow exchanging insults, except it  _sounds_  like polite conversation about food. Dessert in particular. Greg had started off with some seemingly innocent comment to Blaine about him eating three desserts last night which had earnt Kurt a hurt look from Blaine, and he has no idea why. He'd tried to placate him be telling him he'd caught Greg eating chocolate frosting for breakfast, which Blaine had smirked at and then… _this._  A conversation he feels an outsider to. Like it's in another language. He'd offered his opinion that his favourite dessert was tiramisu and the only good thing that had come from that was Blaine and Greg bonding over his complete obliviousness as to what they are actually talking about. They seem to be getting on fine though, despite Blaine's dramatic exclamations last night to the contrary.

He kind of wants to go and have a nap, sleep off the rest of the sugar. He knows going for a run would be more beneficial, but Dave had gone swimming early this morning and he refuses to do that due to the amount of chlorine and the damage it does to his hair. Not to mention the fact that he can smell chlorine on his skin for days afterwards. Although he has been tempted to go a couple of times just to watch Dave power up and down a swimming lane. He smiles at the visual image.

"You look shattered. Why don't you go and have a nap or something?" Blaine states, and he shakes himself, realising he's actually dozed off. Or day dreamed.

"I…yeah. I think I might. Otherwise I'm not going to be able to stay awake during dinner tonight."

He heads to the bedroom and toes off his shoes, a terrible habit which he can't bring himself to care about right now. His attention is caught by the folder he'd noticed this morning, still sitting precariously on the corner of Dave's bedside table. He's never seen anything work related in Dave's apartment before. He can tell it is work related because of the very obvious CPD logo in the centre of the folder, and there's nothing else that could stand for. He's torn about having a look. He knows he's probably far too nosy for his own good, and this is likely to burn him given the work week Dave has had. He also knows if he asked that Dave would tell him what was in it. He decides to ignore it.

* * *

He wakes with a dry mouth and it feels difficult to breathe. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and heads for the kitchen for a drink. He can hear Blaine and Greg talking, and it sounds like they've moved on from whatever their fixation about dessert was. He hears Blaine's voice say something, and as he moves closer Greg's reply is much clearer.

"Nah, Dave got completely screwed by the first guy he ever had a crush on… not that it would have ever worked out, I mean, from what I understand he was a complete arse to the guy. No one wants to go out with a wanker."

"Some guys do. What was his name anyway?"

"Don't know, just some out gay guy at high school…"

He freezes against the wall ala spy mode and his blood is pounding in his ears.  _It was him_. When Greg had mentioned some guy attacking Dave's self-esteem and doing a number…  _it was him_. He feels a bit ill. He knows they've moved on from high school, but to find out that Dave used to, what? Love him? Or was it just a simple crush? He remembers Dave telling him about his first love. How… what was it he'd said? Something about starting from scratch or moving on… he wishes he could remember, because he's fairly certain it's now critically important.

"Um…you don't know," Blaine states, and Kurt wants to call out and tell him to shut the fuck up, because he doesn't need Greg to know that  _he_  is the guy that apparently ruined Dave's self-esteem so badly that Greg spent three years building it up.

"Know what?"

"It's Kurt. Kurt and Dave went to high school together. Kurt was the only openly gay kid at their school…"

"Oh. Fuck.  _Really_?"

Blaine must have nodded or spoken so quietly that he couldn't hear him over the rushing in his ears.

"Crap. I told Kurt about…himself apparently… like on Tuesday. I didn't know… Dave was like, obsessed with him."

"I don't think we should be talking about them anymore…"

"Why not? I think it's great, that they've managed to overcome their past…"

"And yet yesterday you were all doom and gloom about the failure of long distance relationships."

"Yeah. But if these guys can get over what passed between them back then, well, I guess it kind of bodes well."

"Yes, I'm sure that your approval means a lot. But I think you're forgetting the fact it all happened over fifteen years ago. They probably don't even think about it."

"That type of shared past? Of course they would."

Another argument starts, and he's pretty sure Greg is actually playing devil's advocate, deliberately provoking Blaine, but he's too busy processing what he's just heard to pay any more attention.

He hates the idea that he's somehow hurt Dave, even if it was fifteen years ago and is clearly evident that Dave has moved past it, even if, according to Greg, it took him a while. He doesn't ever want to hurt Dave again. He remembers their toast to shitty things done in high school and smiles, suddenly feeling more relaxed. What Dave felt in high school isn't important really, doesn't change how he feels  _now_. Unless he's always been in love with Kurt, which would be slightly concerning. However he can't help but feel a tiny thrill at the idea, although he doubts its validity. He takes a deep breath and strides forward, not caring if Blaine knows he's been listening.  _Again_.

"Hey guys…either of you want a drink? I woke up with dry mouth."

Greg's eyes are wide, he looks worried and Kurt tries to smile at him encouragingly, to tell him with his eyes that everything's going to be okay. He's fine with what he's heard.

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind a glass of wine," Blaine states and Greg is nodding as well. It's not exactly what he meant, but Dave's wine collection is as extensive as his and he's sure he can find a nice bottle that is easily replaceable. He downs a large class of water and then goes to the cupboard Dave uses as a wine cellar. He scans the caps and pulls out a bottle of Merlot, noting that there's three others of the same vintage. Likely a favourite.

He grabs three glasses and heads back to the living room and Greg is still looking spooked. He opens the bottle and pours out three carefully measure glasses. It's only three thirty in the afternoon, and Dave won't be home for at least another two hours, the dinner booking is at eight, so they have plenty of time to kill.

"Relax. I heard what you guys were talking about before. I should have realised when we were talking about it earlier on in the week…"

"Uh…okay. I just… didn't realise it was you that Dave was so… enamoured of back in high school."

"Dave and I have already talked about that. It's in our past. It's not going to affect our future together."

Greg looks like he's about to say something but his mouth quickly snaps shut, head nodding as he reaches for a wine glass. They start a conversation about the wine, something seemingly innocuous, but as soon as Blaine says he prefers whites Greg mutters an ' _of course you do_ ' and Kurt just sits in bafflement as another round of bickering starts. He sits back and observes and he's pretty sure they're both actually enjoying themselves, and it kind of reminds him of Finn and Melanie, but he keeps his mouth wisely shut.

* * *

They've raided Dave's snack supplies and have started the second bottle of wine. Greg has been telling them stories about Harry, which Blaine doesn't believe until he adds a few stories of his own. Blaine will be meeting Harry tomorrow night, so they inform him he can form his own opinion. Greg mentions Santana and being terrified of her, and Kurt grins, telling him Santana was always a pretty scary woman, and not someone you messed with. Greg tells them the story of how Dave met Santana again, how she pretty much stalked him before declaring him a completely incompetent cop. Greg's equally fascinated by stories of their high school days, saying that he left high school early to model, so missed out on the last two years of school.

"I should have made the connection you know. I remember way back in August Dave e-mailing me and telling me that Mike's new girlfriend was someone he went to high school with. And I know she's your best friend. I just didn't make the connection." Kurt shrugs, unconcerned. "It's kind of cool how quite a few of you Lima guys have ended up here though, Chicago's a nice city."

"Yeah, it's really starting to grow on me."

"That's good, because Dave would never be happy anywhere but Chicago. You know that right?"

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not asking him to leave isn't it," Kurt replies sharply. He doesn't need Greg's opinions any more than he needs Blaine's. They're fine without everyone sticking their noses in and offering their two cents. His phone chooses then to vibrate, and he realises he hasn't turned the sound back on since his visual conference call with Vicky hours ago.

_How's your day going?_

Dave. He grins, and he doesn't care that he only saw him that morning, he likes knowing that Dave thinks about him during the day, enough to warrant taking the time to send him a quick message.

_Good. B and G are eating all your snacks and drinking all your wine._

_You aren't helping them at all huh?_ Kurt laughs and types his response.

_Definitely not. ;)_

"God, you two are so ridiculously in love it's sickening. I mean, you saw him this morning, going to see him in less than an hour, and yet here you are exchanging text messages looking all dopey…"

"Fuck off," Kurt says, waving his hand in Greg's general direction before realising he's holding a glass of wine in that hand. He overcorrects halfway through the wave and he knows it's going to happen.  _Shit._  Red wine. White shirt. He plucks at the now wet fabric and glances down at the sofa. At least that's leather and will just wipe off. He places the glass on the coffee table and shoots a dirty look at Blaine who is snickering. Greg is hiding a smile in his wine glass as well, Kurt would swear to it. He gets a cloth from the kitchen, quickly wiping up the spilled wine and checks the carpet. Nothing fortunately. His shirt though is possibly ruined, although he'll likely just dye it another colour rather than actually throwing it out. He returns the cloth to the kitchen and informs the other two he's going to have a shower and change. He can soak the shirt in the shower and assess the damage there.

"You know the best way to get red wine out? White wine. I once broke two bottles of red wine on my cream carpet, so then poured two bottles of white on…my place smelled like vinegar for a month," he hears Greg inform Blaine, and at least they're getting on better than before.

He unbuttons his shirt as he walks down the hallway, eyes on the drying stain. He doesn't really mind the stain, only because it's one of his older shirts, but it's one of his more comfortable ones. Which is why he'll consider dying it. Not something to wear to work, but around home he definitely wants to keep it around. He undoes the cuffs and slips it off his shoulders as he walks to the bathroom.

He's not focussing on much else, but he hears the slither of paper as it hits the floor. He's brushed the folder off the bedside table. He kneels and gathers up the pieces of paper, some of them thicker and stapled together at the corner and he's deliberately trying not to look at what any of the text could be but when ' _LA_ ' jumps out at him several times he pauses and takes a closer look, feeling guilty while he does so but he can't help himself.

It's a flight schedule, flights to and from Chicago from various airports to various airports in LA. Costs. Times. He picks up the next piece; car rental. The next; accommodation in LA.  _What the fuck?_  His heart starts racing and his breathing becomes shallow. He reaches for the next pile of paper and it's thicker. It's a job contract.  _Fuck_. It's not that he doesn't like the idea of Dave in LA with him full time, but he's pretty sure the Dave he's fallen in love with would cease to exist there. Greg was right earlier when he said that Dave would never be happy anywhere but Chicago.

He can't let Dave do this. He can't let him leave everything he loves behind in Chicago just to be with him. He can't deal with the pressure that that puts on him. On their relationship. He's swinging between panic and anger. Because why the hell hasn't Dave talked to him about this? He wonders if Greg knew; if that's what all the tip-toeing around how Dave wouldn't be happy anywhere but here… He feels numb and shaky, his stomach clenching. He has to break up with him. He can't let Dave leave Chicago.

* * *

Greg is looking worried. That's the first thing he notices when he gets home. The second thing he notices is Blaine, who is lying on the ground staring up at the giant photographic print of a vineyard in autumn. He quirks an eyebrow at Greg who just shrugs and rolls his eyes, like this is somehow normal behaviour. He notes the empty bottles of wine alongside the empty bags of chips, nuts, chocolate chips and dried fruit. Kurt hadn't been kidding when he said they'd been eating all his snacks.

"Where's Kurt?"

"Uh, he's in your room. He's been in there a while."

"Meh. He'll just be freaking out about the wine stain on his shirt," Blaine mutters. "Hey Dave."

"Hey. Enjoying the view?"

"Mmm. It's a very nice picture. Where'd you get it?"

Dave doesn't bother trying to hold back his huff of amusement.

"It was a gift. From Greg. Who was very egotistical and thought I'd like it."

"Shut up. You do like it."

"Did  _you_  take this shot?"

"Gee, don't sound so surprised. I told you I photograph wineries."

"It's actually good."

"Talk about damning me with faint praise…"

Dave leaves them bickering to go and find Kurt. He's so glad that his week at work is over and that Kurt is here. He can rest and recharge his batteries, build up his reserves of feel-good moments that enable him to get through the weeks like he's just managed to survive. He pushes the door open and freezes. Bags. Open bags on the bed and Kurt is packing. For some reason he's shirtless, which he finds distracting for a moment before zeroing back in on the bags.

"What…what are you doing?" His voice catches in his throat and he's terrified that it's exactly what it looks like.

"Dave. I…I can't do this. You belong here. Your whole life is here, and I have to be in LA and… fuck this sucks…"

He's suddenly crying, messy hot tears streaking down his face, body collapsing to the bed amidst a pile of clothes and Dave stares at him, unsure what to say. He goes and kneels at Kurt's feet, stares up at him, tries to figure this out.

"I thought we'd already talked about this…could make it work. Wanted to make it work."

His mind is scrambling furiously. Less than an hour ago Kurt was texting him, teasing, happy. What the hell has happened? What has Greg said?

"You can't leave Chicago…"

"I don't have any plans to leave Chicago…"

Kurt's face hardens and eyes flash dangerously as he pulls back.

"Do  _not_  lie to me David Karofsky. You know more than most people how I feel about lying."

He's confused, and getting a bit defensive and annoyed. He hasn't lied but the look on Kurt's face tells him he believes otherwise.

"What  _exactly_  am I meant to be lying about?"

"Your plans to move to LA!"

"I…I don't have plans to move to LA."

"Don't fucking lie to me Dave! I saw it!" Kurt screams, and Dave's reminded of the slightly irrational Kurt he was confronted with when they met again for the first time after so many years. He really wants to scream back, really wants to fight fire with fire. Instead he reaches up and threads fingers in to Kurt's hair on either side of his head and kisses him. It's hard and bruising, and he puts all his frustration with not knowing what the fuck Kurt is talking about in to it.

Kurt is pushing back at him, fingers scraping at his shirt and he groans.  _Too over dressed_. He releases one of his hands from Kurt's hair to tug at his tie, pulling it free easily and letting it fall to the floor before starting work on his buttons. Kurt's hands are pulling his shirt from his pants, going to his belt buckle quickly. Their lips and teeth are still battling, biting and nipping until Dave's sure that his lips look twice their normal size, teeth clacking violently and then he feels Kurt's fingernails dig into his back and he groans, arching into the sensation and pulling away from Kurt's mouth.

"We need to talk…" Kurt gasps and Dave snorts.  _Yeah right._

"This first…"

"What about…Greg and…Blaine…?"

 _Fuck_. He'd forgotten about them, and he hasn't even shut the door and he's pretty sure that is he stops what he's doing he'll be back to square one, Kurt will retreat even further for whatever reason. He's not going to let that happen.

"Screw them. They can watch if they need to, but they can't join in…"

"I…what?" Kurt asks, and there's a small smile on his lips and he feels a swell of victory in his chest. Not everything is lost if he can still make Kurt smile like that.

"I'll tell you later, next year, on our anniversary… just not now."

He pushes Kurt back so he's lying on the bed, runs his hands down his thighs and admires the feel of firm muscle beneath his hands. He mouths Kurt's cock through the material, breathes hot warm air through his pants while he undoes the button and zipper. He's determined to remind Kurt of everything good they have together, and if he has to do this everyday for the rest of his life then he will.

He tugs Kurt's pants down, mouth not moving from his cock and he struggles with his own pants and underwear, kicking his shoes off awkwardly from his half-kneeling, half-sitting position. He's naked and he hopes like hell that Greg and Blaine have enough sense to stay in the fucking living room. Or better still,  _go out_. He looks up to find Kurt watching him, propped up on an elbow, eyes dark with desire, but Dave can tell he's still angry. But he's screwed if he knows what about.

He licks his lips, eyes not leaving Kurt's as he lowers his head back down to his cock and he licks up his length slowly. He can feel the increasing warmth as blood flow increases and he hums, pleased. He takes Kurt's cock into his mouth and sucks gently, eyes not leaving Kurt's as he feels his cock fill in his mouth. He bobs his head, tongue swirling around the head and Kurt lets out a little whimper and his hips twitch and Dave knows he has him.

He slides his mouth off the head of Kurt's cock and starts kissing a trail upwards, over his stomach, nipping at his bellybutton, flicking and then nipping each nipple with his tongue, teeth and then scraping his cheek across the raised nub, which like always gets an appreciative gasp. His hand encircles Kurt's cock, stroking firmly. Kurt is still watching him, eyes still angry, but his mouth is open, lips gleaming and swollen. His own cock has been half-hard since Kurt tried to scratch his way through his shirt, and he's pretty sure he'll have faint red marks from the burn of the fabric on his chest. He moves to straddle Kurt's thighs, moving so he can work their cocks together for a moment while he gets an answer that he needs.

"Do you love me?"

"Fuck you Dave." Dave continues to stare at him, doesn't stop his hand stroking their cocks, waits for Kurt to answer. "You know I do." It's said begrudgingly, Kurt sullen, but he feels infinitely relieved at the words regardless.

"Good. I love you too…"

He lets go of their cocks and lowers his head to kiss him again. The exchange of words seems to have made Kurt angrier and he can't help but feel perversely pleased by that when Kurt rakes his nails up his back with a viciousness he's never expressed before. He groans and thrusts down, rubbing their cocks together forcefully, and the friction feels good. Kurt is almost chewing on his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and nipping it with his teeth repeatedly, his hips thrusting against his.

He feels Kurt's hands on his arse, fingertips digging in so hard he's pretty sure he can feel every single crescent of fingernail. He settles himself on one arm and with his other runs a hand through Kurt's hair before gripping firmly and twisting his head so he can lick his neck, finding the one little point which is extra sensitive and flicking his tongue over it repeatedly until Kurt is bucking up against him almost frantically. He presses back against him, his own hips snapping down.

They haven't had sex since Monday morning, since his whole week turned to shit. Sex has been the last thing on his mind, although he has used it in the past as a form of physical release, or comfort, or both. He hasn't needed to do that with Kurt, just holding him has bought about a sense of calm, enabled him to sleep better at night without working himself into a fit of exhaustion every single night, although he doubts Kurt knows that.

Whatever weird-arse idea Kurt has got into his head, he's going to make him forget it. He moves back to a sitting position and swings a leg over, and before tugging Kurt over on to his stomach he licks the line of his hip bones, three broad swipes of his tongue that have Kurt swearing at him and almost thrashing. He tugs Kurt over and up in to a kneeling position, and he's a bit disappointed he can't see his eyes, but wants this more right now. He doesn't waste time, has no idea when Kurt might decide to pull the plug, so simply spreads his arse cheeks and licks a broad stripe. He can feel the scrape of his stubble against the cheeks, but Kurt is moaning and thrusting back so he does it again. ' _Fucking hell, god yes…'_  Again. He grips the cheeks apart, holding firmly, and he eyes Kurt's hole every time he draws back. His mouth is watering and he lets the saliva spread.

He's only swiped six or seven times before he presses with his tongue and Kurt pushes back and he works his tongue in circles, trying to loosen the firm muscles. He alternates between point pressure and a circular massaging motion, drawing back to give Kurt's tailbone a kiss before delving back in with some more long licks.

"You're too… fucking good at this…not fair…"

"Hngh," he grunts back, Kurt still seems fairly coherent so he can't be  _that_  good. Kurt's arse is turning pink from the scrape of his stubble, but he can't bring himself to care, it's marking him as his, but he also doesn't want to make it too uncomfortable for later. He pulls back and sucks one of his fingers, coating it generously. He's going to have to grab the lube sooner rather than later. He runs his finger down between his cheeks and Kurt squirms away. He pauses.

"No…let me…turn over. I want to see you."

He can't deny such a simple request, and when Kurt rolls back on to his back and then keeps moving off the bed Dave freezes before realising that he's grabbing the supplies from his bedside table. He hands them to Dave wordlessly and he leaves them by his knee, drawing Kurt into a kiss, Kurt's hands tangling in his hair, chests pressed against each other as they both kneel on the bed. His cock is pressed between their bodies, pressed alongside the warm hot length of Kurt's cock and fuck it feels amazing.

He lies back in the bed, legs bent and drawn apart as far as possible, eyes watchful. Dave squirts some lube onto his finger and presses at Kurt's hole, slow steady pressure that Kurt breathes through. They're not saying anything out loud, but he's trying to say everything with his eyes.  _I love you. So much. Don't leave me. Ever. Talk to me. Please._ When Kurt starts pushing back on his finger impatiently he starts moving it, in and out, circling and slides his middle finger in alongside it, accompanied by a gasp from Kurt. He watches for pain. Knows Kurt well enough in bed to know what it looks like, and is relieved when he doesn't recognise any.

He doesn't want to draw this out, wants the languid feeling of post-coitus that eases Kurt into talking coherently. He twists his fingers and Kurt's back arches off the bed.

"Fuck, yes,  _there_ …"

"Good…"

He works Kurt's hole, wants him falling apart under his hands, wants him begging. He alternates between a rapid thrusting rhythm and longer slower strokes, twisting his hand so he's brushing Kurt's prostate as much as possible.

" _Dave, please_."

He has a condom on as quickly as possible, and he's never ever thought about skipping this step before, but he kind of wonders what it would feel like. Just with Kurt. He smears lube and it's messy but he doesn't care. Kurt's holding his arse cheeks apart, legs in the air and even now looks graceful. _Beautiful_. He drives forward, slowly and carefully. His groans mix with Kurt's and it feels so  _right_  that he can't imagine why Kurt would give this up. Kurt's legs move to rest on his shoulders and he runs his hands down Kurt's chest and up his legs, admiring it.

"You going to  _move_?" Kurt asks, and he can tell he's trying to sound bitchy, but the catch in his voice and thrust of his hips is a traitor to his true intentions.

He pulls back and then sinks in, slowly. He usually starts slowly, so he can used to the sensation, enjoy it while it feels new, every single time. Kurt is only sometimes appreciative of the slow rhythm; and now is not one of those times. He speeds up quickly, before Kurt accuses him of being a snail again and Kurt is  _humming_  beneath him, body shaking already. He lets his thrusts become stronger and Kurt's mouth drops open in pleasure.

"God  _Kurt_ …" He wants to say more, but words catch in his throat and melt away, unimportant in the haze of feeling their bodies moving together. He feels Kurt's hands run down his chest, tug at his chest hair, words falling out of his mouth that he only half hears ' _your arms, fuck, chest, strong.'_  He moves his hands to Kurt's hips, gripping them so he can control their movement.

"Fuck Dave… _fuck_."

"Yeah…" Dave replies, and he knows he has just the right angle right now. He's snapping his hips furiously, getting lost in the sensation of building pressure in his groin, knowing it's going to wash over him soon.

"Close. So fucking  _c_ _lose_ …"

" _Kurt._ " He sounds tortured to his own ears, and he can feel Kurt starting to tighten around him, pressure almost painfully tight and then Kurt coming, his cock covering his chest. He thrusts, and Kurt's arse is still clenching around him, providing another level of sensation and he feels the surge well up and then he's groaning his orgasm, his body shaking from the after shock. No matter how many times he has sex with Kurt he seems to forget how simply amazing it is until the next time. He lets Kurt's legs drop carefully from his shoulders and he leans down, capturing his lips in a gentle slow kiss, the complete opposite to the kiss that they shared just moments before.

"You okay?" Dave asks and Kurt nods wordlessly. He kisses him, pressing his chest against his, not caring about the sticky come that he's smearing between them, although judging from the look on Kurt's face when he pulls back he isn't impressed. He pulls out and ties the condom shut, dropping it over the side of the bed for now, he's not leaving Kurt's side until they've talked.

* * *

Dave curls an arm around him, pulls him tight against his chest and Kurt closes his eyes, ignoring all his clothes spread across the room. They need to talk. Sex can't solve this, as much as he'd like it to. He takes in a deep breath, ready to speak, but Dave beats him to it.

"So tell me, what makes you think I'm moving to LA?"

"I…saw what was in the folder."

"Ugh. I still haven't looked at that. My boss – Wait. You looked in it?"

Kurt's stomach sinks.  _Oh fuck_. Another assumption jumped on with both feet, eyes closed and brain switched off. He feels terrible. And sick. All that worry for nothing. Fuck he's an idiot. An idiot that invaded Dave's privacy.

"Uh, not intentionally. I mean, I knocked it off the bedside table and I was trying to not read anything and then I saw LA all over the place and I looked, and it was a flight list, and then there was accommodation and then a job contract…you really didn't know what was in there?"

"Seriously Kurt? With the week I've had? My boss gave that to me on Wednesday. It's been the last thing on my mind to read what I thought was just fucking paperwork."

"Oh." That makes sense. "Right. Of course. Well. I'm sorry that I just… assumed. I was pretty pissed. I kind of thought that you'd already accepted this job without even talking to me about it…"

"Would me moving to LA be such a bad thing?"

"I… _Dave_. You  _love_  Chicago. Your sister is here, and Mike and your nephews. All your friends. I would never ask you to leave all that."

"You're not asking. I'm offering. Well, at least putting it on the table for discussion. Because I  _love_  you Kurt.  _You_. I might love my job and friends, but there's only one Kurt Hummel in the world. And he needs to be in LA. At least most of the time. So…we'll discuss it okay? Like mature adults."

He wants to say no. Doesn't want Dave to have to give up his life here just to be with him. But Dave is right, it's not a decision either one of them can make on their own. He still worries, still feels the niggling doubt in his mind, what Greg had said earlier, that Kurt had really hurt him with the name calling. He can't even remember the words, but he bets Dave remembers. And despite it all Dave had been in love with him. He needs to know, needs to ask.

"Were you really in love with me in high school?"

"What? Who told you that?"

"Greg." Dave rolls his eyes.

"Well, Greg's wrong. And…right. I was in love with the  _idea_  of you Kurt. Of being comfortable enough to even think about having a boyfriend. Sure I was attracted to you, a guy would have to be dead for a decade to  _not_  be attracted to you, but you were just an  _idea_  to me then. Now? Now I'm in love with a man who challenges me in all the right ways, keeps me on my toes and is just there when I need him to be…"

Kurt flushes, can feel his whole body heat and is glad Dave can't see his face right now.

"I love you too… and I would love for you to be in LA with me. I just…don't want you to feel like I'd be forcing that decision on you. And I'd never want you to resent me if it didn't work out… I…it's scary. I would hate for you to have a week like this and me be in LA…"

"Kurt…as important as you are to me, I've coped for many years, some of them single, with far worse weeks than this. I have a support network in place to get me through it. It would  _never_  fall solely on your shoulders."

Kurt bites his lip and nods. Dave's right. And anyway, if he wanted he could be at Dave's side in a matter of hours if it was needed. They could be very precious and important hours though.

"And a move to LA is something I would discuss with you. Like I expect you to discuss with  _me_  any sudden need to suddenly scare me to death by packing all your bags…"

"I… _sorry_." He means it with all his heart, wishes he hadn't jumped to conclusions. Again.

"Just don't give up on me, on  _us_ , okay? You remember a couple of months ago when I jumped to a stupid conclusion and you called me an idiot?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, it was just your turn to be the idiot in this relationship."

"I can deal with that."

"Good. Come on, we have a dinner date…"

"Oh god, do we have to?"

"Do we want our friends to give us shit for the next few weeks?"

"Ugh. No. Fine. Let's go and have a shower."

* * *

It's later than he thought, with Mercedes and Mike both sitting in the living room talking to Blaine and Greg when he emerges from his bedroom.  _Fuck_.

"Oh look, the evening entertainment," Greg says, grinning widely and Dave shoots metaphorical daggers at him, wishing he had some real ones.

"You guys made up…of course you did. We heard you," Greg adds. Socks. He could shove socks in his mouth. That would work. Kurt's gone bright red and Mercedes is clearly trying to not laugh at either of them. He has no idea how long they've been here. After the first few minutes he'd forgotten completely about Blaine and Greg being in his living room. No idea how much they've heard of what was meant to be a private conversation. He sighs and goes and grabs his jacket.

"Come on, if you're going to make fun of us at least you can do it over dinner so I can enjoy a good meal while I'm being mocked."

* * *

They've spent the morning in bed, having stayed up until two talking and drinking with everyone last night. He knows Dave will need to get up soon, do whatever last minute shopping he needs to do and then start on the epic preparations of whatever dinner he's got planned for this evening. He feels calm. Relaxed. No matter what Dave decides about the job they'll talk about it. He needs to remember that they'll talk about  _everything._  He knew, intellectually and logically, that Dave would never had made that type of decision without talking to him about it first. But emotionally he'd completely freaked out.

Greg had taken him aside last night, still far too amused for his own good, but he'd said something, something that has stuck with him enough through the wine and late night. ' _Some people just aren't 100% happy on their own, or without that other person in their lives. I think his other person is you. You make him happy and at the same time your happiness is more important to him than his own. Also, he's happy, you're happy. How does this not equal happy ever after_?' He'd kind of rambled on, but he'd got the gist of it. After Blaine telling him that Greg was cynical about long distance relationships he kind of feels like he's gotten a seal-of-approval.

* * *

As he suspected the afternoon is a flurry of activity. Greg is dispatched to the grocery store, after Dave spent ten minutes reassuring him it's only because Greg knows exactly what Dave needs and what shops to get them from in the shortest amount of time possible. Plus with Greg gone neither of them feels guilty for making out in the kitchen, putting Dave's preparation schedule behind by  _another_  half hour. When Keegan arrives at three to actually  _help_  Kurt shrugs easily, positioning himself in an out-of-the-way spot with Greg to watch them work, their offers of help politely declined. Blaine turns up around four, looking like he's just woken up and joins him and Greg.

"Blaine, this is Keegan. Keegan, Kurt's friend Blaine."

"He's one of Dave's exs," Kurt provides.

"You say that like he collects us…" Greg says, pulling a face.

"Doesn't he?" Keegan asks, laughing.  _Not anymore, not if I can help it,_  Kurt thinks.

"Wait, am I the only person here who hasn't slept with Dave?"

"Seems like it…you don't know what you're missing out on…" Keegan states, winking at Kurt. Dave rolls his eyes.

"If we're playing name the ex, Blaine is Kurt's ex. The nice one."

" _You're_  the nice one?" Greg asks and Blaine instantly looks annoyed.

"Ah, what an incestuous little web we weave…" Keegan mutters, going back into the kitchen.

* * *

Santana turns up looking sour, and Dave knows it's because Kate has to work. She always slightly mellower when Kate's with her, and he hopes she can get away from the hospital early enough before Santana attacks anyone with cutlery.

"You had something you wanted me to look at?"

"Uh, yeah. A job contract. Just let me get it."

She follows him down to his bedroom and he picks the folder up off the bedside table. He still hasn't looked at it, knows that tomorrow he'll have plenty of time to look it over once Kurt's gone back to LA. Santana takes the folder and sniffs.

"You know I'm  _not_  an employment lawyer right?"

"Yeah, but I figure you have better working knowledge than I do."

"Well, you would be right. Let me take a look."

She disappears into the dining room, folder already opened as she flicks through the pages. He returns to the kitchen, where everything is under control. He kisses Kurt quickly across the breakfast bar and gets a blindingly bright smile for his efforts, although Keegan makes gagging sounds behind his back. He gives him the finger and sets about cutting onions for sautéing, they always make Keegan cry and it serves him right.

"Dave…" Santana comes into the kitchen, smacking the folder against her hand. "Have you even read this?"

"Uh, no…I was a bit, um, distracted."

"Yeah, I just bet you were…" Santana replies dryly and she shoots Kurt a look. "They want you to set up a bespoke training course, using the police academy in LA as the trial. Spending one to two weeks in LA as required,  _teaching_ the course once it is up and running, but also remaining an active officer specialising in child psych here in Chicago. If it's successful they want to implement it across state with the potential for all academies to take it on board."

Dave stares at her blankly.

"Santana, are you serious?" Kurt asks, his voice unnaturally high, and Dave knows exactly how he feels. It sounds perfect. Too good to be true, except…maybe not.

"I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. You really need to get a proper employment lawyer to look over this. It's only a draft, but you need to protect your intellectual property. It looks pretty good though. Costs covered, resources available, even a little coordinator to help you run things."

Dave takes the folder from her, he needs to read this. Read it now and make it real. Fuck, no wonder his boss wanted to know his thoughts, this is a pretty big deal. He grins at Kurt and he can barely contain how happy he feels.

* * *

Kurt looks around the table and it's nice to be able to recognise everyone, know who they are, what they do, and how they know Dave. Karen's there, and she's spent a good portion of the evening talking to Dave about the possibilities of the job offer. Or secondment as Santana has taken to calling it. Mike had turned up late with an incredibly tired looking Kate, who had promptly been taken home by a worried looking Santana. Mercedes and Mike had been all loved up, talking exclusively to each other about wedding plans until Dave had thrown a piece of bread at Mike. ' _No bread rolls'_  he'd said with a wink and Kurt had laughed. He feels Dave's arm settle around his shoulders and he leans against him contentedly, watching as Keegan walks in with a tray of dessert dishes. He still can't stomach the idea of dessert after Thursday night, but Blaine's face has lit up and for some reason he turns to Greg, eyebrows waving suggestively.

"Chocolate mousse."

He doesn't even bother asking, but it obviously means something to Greg, who had almost snorted wine out his nose, much to everyone's amusement, including Blaine's. He can't believe how much his life has changed in the last seven months, all for the better, even finding Alex in bed with Marcus. He feels fuller, more content with every aspect of his life and he's reminded of another tree quote, something about love being like a tree with flowers. Or something. He can't remember exactly, but he doesn't care. He doesn't need some quote to tell him that life is better when love is in it.

**THE END**


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. Thank you so much to everyone again. You've all been wonderful. There's reference in here about something mentioned in Cherry Blossom, but nothing big and you'll probably only notice if you're a Kurtcedes fan like myself. I've put a reading order of this verse on my profile page.
> 
> If you want to enjoy the full sub-text of Greg/Blaine in this chapter I suggest you read "Edible Flowers/Edible Gold Dust" before starting out. Although it might be smut/fluff overkill.

**EPILOGUE – AUGUST 2026**

_"Where are you?"_

" _I'm at the airport. Where are you?"_

_"I'm at the airport too."_

_"Right, so we've obviously missed each other. Where are you standing?_

_"Underneath the big sign that says arrivals, where are you?"_

_"Under the same sign…wait, which airport are you at?"_

_"Oh for fuck's sake…Chicago. Don't tell me. You're in LA."_

_"Yep."_

* * *

"Mmm… missed you," Kurt murmurs as he slides his body up Dave's.

They haven't gone more than six days without seeing each other in the last five months, and he's so hectically busy in those weeks that he doesn't really have time to miss Dave. Until he's with him again and is reminded all over again of everything he loves about him. It's easier than he ever imagined, although he knows he has Dave to thank for that. He takes everything in his stride, including his moments of complete craziness. Sometimes it feels too good to be true, and he'll pinch himself, or just stand watching Dave do something as mundane as brush his teeth and his heart feels  _so full_  he just can't comprehend how he's missed this from his life before.

It hasn't been all smooth sailing. They've had seven weeks apart all up, although two of those weeks were down to bad planning. The first had been early on, before he'd  _insisted_  on buying Dave an electronic diary and syncing it with his own. He'd ended up in Chicago while Dave had just flown to LA. He'd sworn it would never happen again, except here they are, at the end of another week apart but in each other's home cities. In any normal circumstances he'd have been in LA, except a wedding is not normal circumstances, so he'd taken actual vacation to tie all the loose ends of the wedding together.

He's glad he did. The week with Mercedes has been fantastic and he's enjoyed every moment of it, even the seemingly endless rushes for the bathroom and the fact that she's banned coffee because the smell of it makes her even more nauseous. He doesn't care, because it's twelve weeks and counting and Mercedes is  _glowing_. She's over the initial fear and all-consuming worry that she was going to lose it, and Mike has been walking around like he's solely responsible for discovering electricity. Or something equally ground breaking. If possible they've become even sappier, but he'll forgive them anything in the lead up to their wedding.

Mercedes has been incredibly relaxed about the whole wedding and he knows it's going to be a beautiful ceremony tomorrow. Him and Dave have got their suits hanging side-by-side in the wardrobe, and he's practised the song he's going to sing so many times that even Dave has started tunelessly humming along. The rehearsal dinner is all out of the way, Dave meeting him there after coming directly from the airport.

The feeling of seeing Dave in the flesh after five days apart is something he hopes he never gets used to. The  _joy_  at seeing him again, their matching grins and not always, but almost, their matching arousal. This is why they never plan anything on their reunion nights, just time with each other, to touch and explore and reassure that they're both still here and both still fully committed. Except tonight they couldn't. Because the best-men were expected to make speeches, and toasts, not run off to the nearest available closed room and fuck like animals. Which he'd managed to hold off doing throughout dinner, the feel of Dave's thigh rubbing against his, hand squeezing his knee, soft kisses to his cheek; all accumulating and he was sure at times Dave was doing it on purpose.

Now they're alone,  _naked_ , and he straddles Dave's thighs, grinning down at him. He almost has a ritual now, a pattern for how he likes to reacquaint himself with Dave's body. Runs his hands over a rough jaw, through curly chest hair, back up and then down his arms to his hands which are settled on his hips before trailing back up and he feels the muscles in his arm twitch as he drags his fingers over the tattoo. He frowns. Dave might sometimes flex his muscles playfully, but that was almost like a pain induced twitch…

He lowers himself, turning and positioning himself so he's half lying on Dave's body, where he can still grind against Dave's thigh, can slip a hand between their bodies and stroke Dave's erection. He's getting very appreciative groans from Dave, but his attention is on the tattoo. It doesn't look good, slightly red and inflamed.

"Dave, why is your tattoo all raw? Wait…is that…  _new?_  You got a  _new_   _tattoo_?" He's tempted to poke it, but considering the flinch he got from just dragging his fingers across he stops himself. Dave glances at his arm and shrugs.

"It's not a tattoo, it's a scratch…"

"Looks like a pretty well defined scratch," he retorts dryly.

Dave laughs, eyes warm and his fingers are massaging his arse cheeks and he's not sure if Dave is trying to distract him from the fact he's got a new tattoo or is just really horny. Probably both.

"A scratch is a small tattoo. I got a small scratch…and some touch ups to the ink so the new bit doesn't stick out so much…"

He doesn't know how tattoos work exactly, but it sounds logical. The new bit is just as stylised and curly as the rest of it, except it isn't touching the tree at all, and he can't decide if it's meant to look like something or…

"It kind of looks like the letter k…"

"You have very sharp eyes Mr Hummel…"

"I… it  _is_  a k then? For Kurt?" He feels stupid as soon as he's voiced the question, because of course it's k for Kurt. Dave's face is full of disbelief and he buries his head in Dave's neck, licking at his collarbone, his turn now to try and distract him. He's not quite sure how to feel about Dave getting a tattoo of the letter k, it's pretty permanent, but it makes him feel better about his rather impulsive purchase earlier in the week.

"It's not going to be k for fucking Keegan is it?" Dave mutters, but he sounds suitably breathy.

"Could be k for Karofsky…or Kruze, or Kadin, or Kelly…" Kurt murmurs, moving back down Dave's body, lips grazing over a nipple, teeth nipping at his belly button, tongue sliding over the head of his cock followed by his mouth. This is a guaranteed distraction technique.

" _Kurt_ ,  _god_ … would you mind,  _ah_ , not talking about my nephews and niece…  _oh god_ … when we're in bed… it's not exactly…  _fuck_ … fuck. Just…  _god_  Kurt. Don't stop…"

He'd say something snarky about not talking with his mouth full, but doesn't want to pull away from Dave's cock, the slide of hot firm flesh between his lips and against his tongue. He abstains from jerking himself off when he's away from Dave, lets the pressure build up until they're together again. He has no idea if Dave does the same thing, but he suspects he does, at least some times, given the frenzy that sex can become between them.

Now is not one of those times, it's slower and more playful, almost teasing and he wants to slide into Dave, feel his body hot and tight around his cock, make them both fall apart and cry out. Despite the uncountable times he's topped he still feels like he needs approval, or encouragement, which is ridiculous, but he can't help it. Dave knows though, doesn't say anything, just silently passes him what he needs, presses them into his hand with a firm squeeze.

* * *

He misses Kurt when they're apart, but it makes him appreciate every moment they have together. Their routines have moulded around each other, and he's joined a football team as a casual in LA simply so he can still play and train regularly, regardless of his location. He's become to consider Carson, Brett and Cassie friends, gets teased about his wide-eyed persona when they see celebrities when out for dinner. Kurt knows all of his friends, and the fact that he gets on with them means a lot.

He feels the slick slide of a finger over his hole and  _mmm._  Kurt's mouth is still on his cock, hot tight and wet and he loves this, loves Kurt. There's more to the little addition of his tattoo, but he can explain it later, if he even needs to. Kurt's not stupid, and he's pretty sure his mind is already assessing the possible meanings or the tiny design. He feels the steady pressure of a finger and  _okay_ , Kurt's probably got other things on his mind right now.

"God I missed you…"

"Mmm… I'm sure that's just the sex talking," Kurt replies, licking swollen lips and smiling at him with warm affection. He can feel Kurt's finger inside him, twisting away and he pushes against it, is rewarded with another finger and he lets out a low groan at the stretch.

"Yeah,  _god yeah…_  you're probably right… doesn't mean you have to stop."

"Wasn't going to…"

He's thankful as fuck that Kurt's long-limbed, can stretch him easily and kiss him thoroughly at the same time, his tongue mirroring the movement of his fingers. He reaches out for Kurt's erection, curls his fingers around it and strokes until Kurt is moving against his hand, can feel the tension in his body ratcheting up notch by notch. He in hales sharply at the combined sting of a third finger and Kurt's sharp bite at his neck and then the gentle lapping of tongue.

"Fuck Kurt… if you leave a mark that can be seen tomorrow…"

" _Mmm_. I've never left a mark before, why would I leave one now?"

"Because you like the idea of seeing your mark on me in all the wedding photos?"

"I've already got a mark…" Kurt says and his fingers trace feather-light over the tattoo on his left arm, and okay, the man's got a point.

"That you do…" he replies quietly.

* * *

He reaches for a condom, and then Dave's hands are there, taking it from him and opening it, sliding the thin barrier down and spreading lube, stroking him firmly until he's gasping. He lets Dave guide him, feels the resistance give way to slick tight heat and he moans Dave's name as he pushes forward. His fingers are digging into Dave's thighs, little circle of white looking like halos around each fingertip. He pulls back slowly, controlled, and Dave lets out a shuddering breath that is partly his name. He presses forward again, leaning forward with his entire body so he can kiss him, cup his cheek and look directly into his eyes.

"I love you…"

Dave's face breaks into the same wide grin, the one that always has him smiling back automatically.

"I love you too…"

He kisses him, slowly, languidly, hips thrusting shallowly. One of Dave's hands curled in his hair, the other squeezing an arse cheek possessively, a leg wrapped around him as well. He's never felt so good to be alive. He drags himself back upright, peppering kisses over every inch of Dave's body that he can reach with his mouth, runs his hands down his chest and strokes his cock. He pulls back and thrusts in deeper, repeating the movement, using the full range available without pulling out completely.

" _Kurt_ … ah…"

He lets himself speed up slightly. Dave's hand is working his cock, pumping furiously, his mumblings now incoherent and mixed with his own. Body taut with pressure. He's gorgeous.  _His_. He moves faster, pace increasing as he watches and feels Dave's body tighten, tighten, tighten and then he's coming, hand still moving as he comes and Kurt doesn't stop, keeps thrusting as he watches Dave's body shudder. Dave's eyes flicker open to meet his and that's all he needs. He's coming, eyes not leaving Dave's, his body shaking from the release of tension, everything inside him collapsing in on itself before flying apart.

He catches himself as he falls forward, hand going to Dave's chest to prop himself up. He leans down to kiss him again, ignoring the cooling come on Dave's stomach and chest, continues to thrust very gently while he kisses him, groans at the sensitivity as he withdraws and revels in the vibration of a moan in Dave's chest. He ties off the condom and places it off to the side, letting himself fall to Dave's side, arm and leg falling over him, head rested on his shoulder.

They're quiet, he's unable to form words but he knows they don't need them right now. He kisses Dave's shoulder, feels an arm wrap around him and he smiles.

* * *

Kurt's jittery the next morning but he simply puts it down to pre-wedding nerves. Although he's not sure if best-men are meant to be nervous. They have about twenty minutes before they need to leave, him to go to Mike's, Kurt to Mercedes'. They have Santana and Kate as well, the bridesmaids, although when he'd called them that last night Santana had dug the heel of her shoe into his foot all the while smiling pleasantly. He's polished their shoes, watched Kurt pack what he calls his wedding day survival kit and is watching a random game of basketball on TV when Kurt flops down beside him on the sofa.

"I need to tell you something…"

"Shoot."

"I… did something very impulsive on Monday. I mean… I saw it a couple of months ago and noticed it again last time I was here and then on Monday I just… bought it."

"Bought it? W _hat_?"

"Uh. A house."

"A house? What… why? What for? Wait. Here? In Chicago?"

"Of course here in Chicago! I can't keep using Mercedes' place with the baby on the way and Mike moving in and with his shift work and everything. But it's just around the corner from her place, the next block, and I figure I can set it up as a more permanent office space and –"

"Kurt! You don't need to convince  _me_ … and I doubt it's as impulsive as you seem to think it is. You probably weighed up inner-city office space and buying a house… yeah, you did. I can tell by the look on your face. How about we leave now and you can show me round?"

"Uh, I don't have keys yet…"

"Well then, how about we go drive by and you can tell me your plans. You do have plans right? Decorating and stuff?"

"Of course! I thought I could set up the upstairs bedrooms as guest rooms, so if we have friends or family come to stay they can stay there, and  _not_ with us… for Mercedes and Mike's families as well, so they don't have visitors underfoot when the baby arrives…"

Dave grins as he listens to Kurt talk, picking up the garment bags and herding him out the door. The way Kurt is talking and planning is years and years into the future and he doesn't feel so impulsive about his own little tattoo now.

* * *

"Sparkling grape juice for you madam," Kurt says, pouring her a glass and she's grinning widely. She looks stunning and he knew she would, wouldn't have it any other way. He leaves her with Mike and does a quick circle of the room. The ceremony had gone flawlessly, with Blaine and him singing while they had signed all the paperwork. Now there's just the reception to get through, if he doesn't kill Greg and Blaine first. They've been good mostly, but he can tell from where he's standing that they're arguing again. He walks closer and hears Blaine complaining, voice low.

"Seriously, did you  _have_  to send them to me at work?"

"You're still going on about that? It was three days ago…"

"My  _work_  Greg…"

"I have one of the photos you took hanging up in my studio…"

"I… _what_?"

"Yep. Thought that would shut you up."

Kurt watches as Greg walks away and instead of glaring after him Blaine looks a little gobsmacked. It's better than outright hostility so he'll take it, although he knows they've been meeting up regularly to have dinner together in London, so he figures they must get on at least  _some_  of the time.

"It's nice to see you two kind be civil to each other," Kurt states and Blaine jumps, turning to him with wide shocked eyes.

"What? Did you hear that?"

"I… yes? I can't say I understood any of it, but… are you okay? You look a little sick."

"Um. I'm fine. Good. Great. Peachy even. Uh. I'm going to go get…a drink."

He takes off after Greg and Kurt just shakes his head in bemusement. He feels Dave's arms wrap around him, chin resting on his shoulder.

"You did good…"

"Of course I did. I had no other option." His eyes flick to Mercedes and Mike who are talking to a table full of their grandparents. "They look really happy don't they…"

"Yep. Sickening. Too bad it's their wedding day, we could really pelt them with bread rolls, there're heaps left over…"

Kurt laughs gently, enjoying the warmth of Dave laughing with him. The cake has been cut, dessert served, and the only formal item left for the evening is the first dance, which is scheduled in fifteen minutes. He glances around for Greg, wanting to grab him and make sure he's in place to get the photos except he can't see him. He was  _just there_.

"Did you see where Greg went? The first dance is in fifteen minutes…"

"I think he went through that door…"

Kurt sees the side door Dave is indicating and heads for it, it leads to a short corridor with a few doors, no sign of Greg. He turns to go back into the main hall but Dave has reached for the nearest door, pulling it open and looking inside before shutting it again quickly but quietly, mouth open and closing.

"What's wrong?"

"Greg and Blaine…in there…" Dave says, voice quiet, hand gesturing at the closed door. He's pretty sure if they didn't notice Dave opening a door they aren't going to notice voices.

"What are they doing in there?"

"Apparently licking cake from each other's bodies…"

"I… _really?_ "

"Yeah. Really. I think they've gotten over their differences…"

"Is it bad that I kind of want to take a peek?"

"Oh god Kurt… come on… let's see how long it takes for them to tell us…"

"Spoilsport," he replies, but he's laughing, tugging Dave back into the main hall.

* * *

He's been planning this for a couple of months, going with Mike to the dance lessons when he can without arousing too much suspicion. He knows Kurt is expecting to dance with Santana as part of the bridal party, with him dancing with Kate, however he has other ideas. Ones that Mike and Mercedes are fully supportive of. He sees Greg with his camera and he doesn't look any different from half an hour ago. He spies Kurt and heads toward him, needs to get his attention from the fussing he's doing over the lighting and music for the first dance, as if it hasn't been organised for months. The starting strains of the song start and the MC announces the first dance. He can see the moment Kurt starts frantically looking for Santana, knowing he's meant to be joining in with the dancing in about two minutes.

"I believe I owe you a dance…"

"I… what?"

"A dance. You want to lead, or should I?"

"I…you learnt how to dance both?"

"Yeah, figured I owed it to you…"

Kurt's shaking his head, small smile playing on his lips and he cups his face and kisses him.

"You can lead…"

The smile on Kurt's face is pure joy as he leads him to the dance floor where Mike is leading Mercedes around in a traditional waltz. Santana is waiting at another corner with Kate, Adrian and Paula at another. He manages to catch the right cue and lead in at the same time as the other two couples, filling the dance floor to give more people the confidence to come up and dance. Mercedes has gone to have a dance with her father and Mike has gathered up his mom. It feels wonderful, so many positive emotions from everyone, he could stay like this forever.

Half an hour later he's had enough, Kurt hasn't let him sit down, or even leave the dance floor for a drink, although Santana had been kind enough to bring them over glasses of water when he'd begged with his eyes. They've slowed to a gentle sway, the number of people now on the dance floor making it impractical for anything more elaborate. They've got their arms around each other's waists, Kurt's head resting on his shoulder, lips occasionally pursing to give him tiny butterfly kisses that tickle his neck. He likes it, but his feet are killing him, if only he could take his shoes off.

"It kind of looks like a butterfly…"

"Hmm? What does?"

"Your new tattoo. Or scratch."

His heart skips, he knew Kurt would get it, though he had kind of expected another extensive study of his arm. He should have known better that Kurt wouldn't need it.

"Mmm… I wanted something that symbolised new beginnings, and I figured a blossoming flower was pushing it a bit too much…"

"It also looks like something else…"

"Yeah?"

"Two hearts touching. Interlocked." Kurt's voice is quiet, hesitant, and he squeezes Kurt, glad he's already in his arms.

"Exactly."


End file.
